


Misfits

by FortReveuse20



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-16
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-02-21 11:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2466020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortReveuse20/pseuds/FortReveuse20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Home" is a natural concept that cannot be defined. Earth was never for the weak of spirit and heart. Pain and suffering is masked through barred teeth. Will they ever find that sense of belonging they desperately crave? (Slight AU Season 2. Pairings are not the priority, but you should still give it a chance. Expect slow pairings and a lot of angst. Murland and Bellarke are my humble OTPs along with hints of Kabby, Linctavia, and others)</p><p>(Archive warnings will become more prevalent in later chapters)</p><p>P.S. May be confusing to some, but I had ideas and started writing for this story well before season 2 aired. Thanks :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Survival

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was originally from my account over on FanFiction. I decided to post it here just for the heck of it. This was originally created as my own interpretation of Season 2 and will include my same original elements prior to the actual Season 2 premiere. Sorry if it seems confusing, I wrote this after season 1 and just stuck with it.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it and don't forget...any criticism could help me improve. The first few chapters are filler; thrown in there for symbolic effect. I have decided to keep Atom alive. Why? They killed him off too quickly. He shouldn't have had as much screen time as he did if he was just an extra, basically. 
> 
> This may seem like it is pretty centered around my OC. Reason being, I added an extra character in here to spice things up for an already fantastic show. We already know loads about the characters already, but I will try to represent each character as much as I feel necessary as this story goes on. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget, I will be happy to receive criticism, comments, or overall questions you may have.

Abby and Kane had been walking for miles on end, looking for any signs of human life, or at least that of their children. As unhappy with each other as they were, they had to find them. It was just a responsible thing to do. Ever since their first breath of Earth's new air, their senses were stirred by a new found beginning, responsibility, and even rules.

The Earth offered more than they could ever imagine. It also took more than they imagined. Still, it was beautiful. The majestic view of the green, lush mountains of Virginia was foreboding all while being peaceful. If one stood at just the right elevation and had just the right view—they had no choice but to be taken away by the magic the landscape that lay before them. It went on as far as the eye could see.

Aside from the breathtaking views and ethereal atmosphere after living in the confined steel grey walls of lonely outer space, there were also new found dangers to take precautions of. Mutated animals, insects, and even plants imposed as new threats. The biggest threats of all were humans.

Abby and Kane were trudging along the forest together, being approximately 3 miles away from the Hundred camp. This was unknown to them; they were simply walking, trying to find any sign of human life. They had left their own camp in a haste, half because members of the Ark wanted them gone. The Ark camp stood alone for the time being, people leading themselves so that they could look out for their families and mourn the rest who had to be sacrificed for the fresh start.

The two former Council leaders remained in silence. Abby walked a few feet ahead of Kane. The tension was still very much alive. After the past events, they supposed there wasn't much to say. It was a bygone and both of them had to have some responsibility to look after, supposedly to keep a part of them alive. One could argue if they were truly doing this for themselves or not. Kane was tired of Abby and Abby was tired of Kane. The same determination and leadership was there, though, more for Abby. Kane trudged after her reluctantly, knowing that as a new start that she was still part of the Council. He still had a piece of him right there with him. It was leadership, power, and home. Neither one of them could just let go.

Slowly, did they realize they were still trying to justify ends to a means. Trying their hardest to keep structure alive, little did they know they were becoming no better than the delinquents themselves based off of that principle. Slowly and painfully, they were getting there. Slowly and painfully.

> Several days before. Alternate.

"Wait—last one."

The last of the wristbands were thrown into the pile of the rest of them, to be buried and forgotten. It was the first real act of rebellion, one might say. Bellamy and Atom had been in charge of this assignment and took the task gratefully. Bellamy hurled the tip of the shovel into the ground and began to slave away the pounds of dirt to be thrown into the hole. Bit by bit their last connection to the Ark was cut off. Only for a second did regret fill a crevice in their mind, but only for that second.

Bellamy patted down the last inkling of dirt over the hole and shoved the end of the shovel in the ground to make it stand upright. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. "I should probably check on Octavia, she's been out with Wells a while now." He leaned and rested his arms on the end of the shovel for a moment.

Atom hitched his breath slightly, hoping that she wasn't getting herself into trouble for once—or worse. He knew that she was safe with Wells for the most part. Still, kid wasn't much a strong one; in both physique and persuasion. Knowing Octavia she could easily get her own way, leaving a flustered Wells to stand there with nothing more than a "but…!" and then a sigh in defeat. But something else was sort of gnawing at Atom at that moment.

Atom scratched the back of his neck. "Hey…Bellamy? Before we go can I say something?"

"Yeah, sure." Bellamy leaned a little further on the shovel and wiped some sweat off of his lip.

"I don't think I said thank you," Atom started. "For yesterday—and the acid fog."

Bellamy stiffened up slightly. He looked down at the ground. He didn't want to remember the rush he was in to make sure everyone was safe. He didn't think things would get as serious as it did. Someone lost their life while defending Atom's. Someone also lost their sight.

Atom looked up in the direction of the trees. "Heh. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you," he added. He took his head back down and tried to direct his eyes back to where he sensed Bellamy was standing.

Bellamy bit his lip slightly and then sighed. He was the one that had to choose—Darren or Atom. Darren sacrificed himself; Bellamy had to keep reminding himself. It was no one's fault. It was meant to happen.

"Don't mention it," Bellamy said finally. He straightened up and began to shake the shovel back up out of the dry dirt. He looked over at Atom and saw him smiling at the trees. His head was pointed a bit away from Bellamy.

 _'It's the best he can do,'_ Bellamy thought. He inwardly frowned. Still, he had to be strong. He was going to be a leader after all. He walked over to Atom and placed a hand on his shoulder. Atom nodded, indicating that he was ready to be led out of the woods and back to camp.

This was the first day he had to lead Atom. It was a lot harder—emotionally—than he thought it would've been. A few times Atom couldn't help but stumble over some twigs and almost run into a tree or a low branch as he slightly strayed from Bellamy's hold. The trip back took a long time, but Bellamy was patient. Atom would keep laughing nervously, his way of apologizing for being so clumsy, and then try to make small talk. Bellamy remained silent, and decided it'd be best just to listen to what Atom had to say. He figured making any noise or talk would be to patronize him. And that just wasn't something Atom needed after something traumatic.

Atom must've felt like a misfit with the others. And frankly, so did Bellamy.


	2. Mad World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover what happens to Murphy after being left to rot in place on the tree stump. His leg is badly injured and so is his spirit. 
> 
> We learn more about a new face that is menacing and unforgettable as they will play an incremental part of everyone's fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why Murphy? Yes I understand everyone hates him. He was MADE that way. I wanted to expound on him since his character inspires and intrigues me to no end. So, I came up with my own theories. I hope they keep him alive for Season 2. Yes, his actions are NOT okay, but I think we should all agree he is bitter, in inexorable amounts of pain, and is traumatized to the point of insanity. He is not evil or mental, just a power-hungry bully. He never struck me as evil. Only driven to madness through his treatments. I hope the writers explain why more in detail than just my assumptions.
> 
> Also, I have put specific archive warnings for throughout the story. I will always warn you before hand, too.

_Previously…_

" _Should we go after him?"_

" _No…the Grounders will take care of him."_

Murphy was fortunate. The Grounders had done him the pleasure of releasing him of reopening the healing wounds they had inflicted on him. Though his mind remained unconscious, he still had some sort of awareness to what was going on around him.

" _This is for not telling us about the mines!"_

Clearly they were upset with their pawn. He had done them some good, days ago, when they sent him back to kill everyone with the strain of _Ebola_ they had manufactured. Still, he shouldn't have run in such haste. He was their communication between the Hundred, Tristan's secret last chance to get rid of any threat to their society. Murphy was the unlucky one; chosen at random to be nothing more than a tool. Not even Murphy knew why he chose to stay silent during interrogation. He did leave camp out of hate and betrayal after all. These were the people who chose to indict him for nothing, to kill him for nothing, yet he defended them. That was a true mystery.

Through his unresponsive mind it was black and he could only hear faint voices aside from his own voice in his head. He could barely feel any part of his body except a faint tingling in his fingers and torso. It was nothing more than a haze; he even thought he was dead. But he was still able to feel and think. He'd half wished they'd put him out of his misery already. He didn't understand why they had to choose him. He didn't understand why they had to string him up. He didn't understand why his father—

His father…

He was too limp and too tired to even force his brain to think. It wasn't like he could anyway. Being in the odd, unconscious frame of mind he was, Murphy could barely focus on the present much less past events or memories. He could feel his arms limply hitting things on the ground. He was moving in a sliding motion. He knew they were dragging him and even tried to force his brain to wake up, in order to beat the shit out of them. They obviously could've carried him but regarded him as worthy enough only to be dragged by his legs. He could hear the mumbles of what he assumed were Grounders. Wherever it was they were taking him, it wouldn't be nice.

Murphy felt his heart rate rise slightly. No, he didn't want to—they couldn't. He could still feel the noose around his neck, engulfing his airway in flames. Every kick to the face, ribs, split skin. He couldn't even get one person to stand up to Bellamy. _He lost_ and they left him to his own vices. He wandered aimlessly throughout the wilderness, attempting to look for Mount Weather on his own. The animals had even tried to rip him apart a few times. He was lucky to have been able to squeeze through a tight bunker in the ground surrounded by sharp rocks so the large animals couldn't get him. But that was short lived and he was quickly scared out by snakes. Eventually, he found Mount Weather. And it was the most frightening thing to ever stand before his eyes.

He figured he was close when they found him. He figured they clearly overreacted. He had no sass or strength left in him to fight them off when they captured him. He couldn't help but feeling helpless, lost, and scared. The Grounders took him to their base camp, dragging him through series of barracks and hateful spectators. They threw him in the room and strapped him into a steel chair. Everything—he could still _feel_ everything they did. He was too nervous to speak about where he had come from and about everyone else. That was the biggest mistake he had ever made. They began by beating him endlessly, and then leading towards whipping his face. They ceased after so long, his face sore and painted with blood. They walked away and his heart sank a bit, hoping they had finally stopped. They hadn't. Tristan had walked over with a bloodthirsty glare, brandishing a knife close to Murphy's face, and then stabbing it in the wall. His booming voice eventually rendered Murphy to the point of tears. This only angered Tristan and he pulled the knife out of the wall, too impatient to wait any longer. That's when they began to carve his skin savagely with the knife. They even attempted to rip his fingernails off one by one. Murphy had never been a screamer before and yet throughout the horrific series of events, he didn't yell. Murphy still couldn't tell them anything. While the blood dripped from every ounce of his body, Tristan was held back by someone. Murphy couldn't see hardly anything in the dark room and through his red vision, everyone looked like a shadow. His ears rang. The person had crept close to him, giving him a second chance to work for them. He had reluctantly agreed and then found himself sobbing uncontrollably, giving away every bit of information about the Council, Ark, Bellamy, Clarke, and the whole hundred camp and why they were there. The person left the room and Murphy sat there quietly. He watched painfully as a medical official had entered the room, looking just as vicious and violent as the rest of them. He injected a syringe into a bare, untouched spot on Murphy's arm. It affected him nearly immediately and he could feel every bit of his body burn and sting. That's when he began to yell. They instructed him to return back to camp. He knew he was dead either way, but didn't want to be killed by Grounders, and he was going to take out those bastards who started everything in the first place. They would go down with him.

But again, _he lost_. He wondered what they were going to do this time. Tristan had clearly been as furious as ever and stabbed Murphy deep in the leg. He could still feel his thigh pulsating even through his numb mind. At this point he wished they would just kill him and get it over with. Wherever they were dragging him off to, it better be death. But the Grounders still weren't quite finished with him yet.

Once they arrived at their destination, they opened an entirely different interrogation chamber than the last. This time, the room was surrounded by darker and colder steel walls. The vaulted door was locked and secured by heavily armed guards. There were no windows and the only light source was the light bulb hanging low and loosely over a chair in the middle of the room. Murphy was still unconscious and the Grounders had thrown his limp body into the room without much care. The impact quickly woke him up. He began to get up slowly, crouching on the floor with his elbows. His hands were tied tightly together with twine. His thigh was bruised and bleeding badly from where he had acquired the deep stab wound. He felt the air rushing behind him and figured he was close to the doorway.

"Get up," a deep and haunting voice behind him commanded. Murphy didn't even have time to do so before he was dragged by the arm like a doll and thrown into the chair in the room.

His vision was dizzy and the pain from his leg was affecting his brain to think properly. The same man who threw him in the chair ripped the spot on his pants open, allowing the wound to meet the dense, cool air. The man took a red piece of fabric from his shirt and roughly tied it around Murphy's wound. The man had tied it too tight and quickly for Murphy to handle. His eyes watered and he groaned suddenly. He briefly wondered why they weren't tying him to the chair like last time.

The man left without another word. Murphy blinked the tears away and could finally focus on the rest of the room. It would've been pitch black aside from the circle of golden light swinging above him. He looked to the right corner of where he was sitting and saw the door wide open. One guard was in the room and Murphy could only see the whites of his eyes glaring back at the teen. One was outside of the door and only the back half of his body was visible. The air seemed colder than Murphy remembered. The eerie silence of the hallways outside, aside from the creaking or clanking of metal, were all too familiar. The distant screams from farther down the hallway gave him chills. Murphy was back in the prison ward. The walls and metal floors shook in reply.

Murphy's eyes widened as he saw a silhouette enter the room. The room became darker and colder when the vaulted door creaked and banged loudly as someone from the outside swung it across to be shut. The guard that was in the corner remained there, still silent and now totally hidden from view in the darkness. The air became more suffocating and dirty as soon as the door had been shut. Murphy squinted slightly in attempt to see more of the silhouette, but it was a one-sided mirror. The silhouette still remained there, silent and foreboding. He assumed whomever it was that they were observing him.

Murphy heard a deep throated chuckle emerge from the silhouette. "I'm underwhelmed." The voice was instantly recognized as female, cold and threatening. Her boots thudded nearer to Murphy. Her long legs appeared first in the dim light above Murphy's head and he scanned her lower half. She was dressed in shabby black clothes from head to toe. Suddenly her face appeared. He was surprised to see she looked to be his own age. Her big golden eyes reflected the light above, revealing indifference as they observed him up and down. She had long caramel brown hair held up in a wavy ponytail. Some strands stuck out and highlighted the defined features of her face. Her pink lips remained in a straight line against her light skin. She didn't look much in terms of physique; she was thin and wasn't much over five feet five inches. One could easily rough her up if it weren't for the guards three times her size. Murphy looked up at her helplessly. Her expression portrayed one of slight boredom. Still, her general aura was enough to make anyone have chills run up their spine.

Her lips rose in a sudden smirk. Her shaped brows furrowed in a warning manner. "Let's see here." Those words prompted the man in the corner to hurry over in a stride. Murphy gulped; the man must've been the size of the door.

The man handed her a neatly arranged folder before returning back to his spot in the dark. She looked at it with slight interest and read it aloud carefully.

"John Murphy," her tone rose slightly. "Looks like you are quite the dangerous one."

Murphy said nothing.

She smiled darkly. "You were put in jail aboard the Ark for refusal to comply with their violence laws. Hmph, doesn't everyone?" She continued to read aloud more information about him, mostly the little details. Mostly to play with his head.

"Your father was floated for trying to protect you," Her menacing golden eyes met his with a smirk. "What a nice man." She slammed the folder shut and slid it across the room.

Murphy gulped again, stunned that they had so much information on them. Regardless of everything he had broken down and told them, they knew all the little details. Things that he didn't even expound on. They knew it all. And worst of all, they were forcing him to relive it all in an attempt to manipulate him.

"Tell me," she crouched down and rested an elbow on his knee. She looked him directly in the eyes. "Why are you here? Aside from going against the rules we gave you?"

Murphy remained silent. His lips parted slightly, mostly out of fear, as he saw the real venom in her eyes. Her voice was challenging and spurring.

Her smirk dropped suddenly into something terrifying. She looked him dead in the eye and then surprised him with a vicious slap across the face from the back of her hand. He winced and found it difficult to look back at her. She didn't force him to.

"We've run out of patience for you, John. _They_ all have." She got up quickly and motioned the man in the corner to do something on the wall. The lights flickered once, twice, and surged again a third time before the grimy lights in the ceiling turned on, revealing not much more light than what the light bulb gave off. The room became a bit more visible.

Her stare was intense as she remained connected directly with his eyes. She began pressing down with her clenched fist on the spot where his leg was stabbed. He gasped and flew his head back to look at her, gritting his teeth at the pain.

Her expression darkened. "Why do you think it's okay—to deceive every human alive?" She still wasn't appeased when he decided not to answer and instead to writhe in pain. She pushed down harder on his thigh and he flew his head back as his face scrunched up in more pain.

"You know," she began. "You don't have to be difficult. All we're trying to do is get somewhere."

He slowly motioned his head back to look at her. His brows furrowed upward and his breathing remained ragged as he tried to suck in the pain from the pressure on his thigh.

"Fine. If you won't talk…" Her words again prompted the man in the corner to make his way over. This time a remote was in his hand as well as a cuff of some kind. The man went straight to Murphy, causing him to squirm slightly. The man placed the cuff around Murphy's neck like a collar and handed the woman the remote. The anxiety quickly built up again. This time, the man stood only a few feet adjacent to the woman.

The woman traced over the notch on the remote. She stood up and cut off the eye contact with him as she directed her attention to the remote. She set it to the first switch and a humming noise could be heard. Murphy shook in his seat as he felt a sudden jolt of electrical currents surge through his neck. The pain was lingering and traveled to his chest region.

"We gave you a chance, a better chance than you ever had at your camp. All you want is to redeem yourself isn't it? Well, this is your punishment for causing some people to die," she spat. She was ruthless and stone cold.

She turned the switch to level two. Murphy squirmed again, fighting the urge to become violent.

"People out there died!" She enunciated the last word and got closer to his face. "At _your_ hands! You!"

Level three. More intense pain.

"You could have easily prevented this, John. All you had to do was your job and then return back to us. You took too long and they took matters into their own hands. Now you've made a war."

Level four. A small cry escaped his lips.

"Now it's your turn to pay."

Her fingers rested on the switch ready to give him the highest level of shock the remote held. He was gasping and breathing heavily.

"No-!" He croaked. His voice was rough and hoarse. Small drops of sweat rolled down from his messy hairline.

The woman raised her eyebrow slightly and hesitated on turning the switch. She waited anxiously for him to speak. It wasn't as if she were relatively excited to hear his excuses. Hell, this was the first time they've met. She was only told of what he had done. Running the interrogation ward as a recent job wasn't always the most informed. Still, he was intriguing all the same.

Murphy held out his tied hands, shaking. He tried to regain composure. "I didn't know…"

The woman gave an incredulous scoff at that. She crossed her arms and stared at him with the stoic expression that seemed to be painted to her face. His blue eyes reflected fear as he looked up at her with a sense of desperation. She observed him for a long time before finally speaking.

"I look at you and I see nothing but a pathetic little boy," she narrowed her eyes. " _You're pathetic_."

She grabbed him out of the chair with ease, her sudden strength surprised Murphy. She quickly kneed him hard in the ribcage and threw him onto the dirty ground. He remained there limply, looking sick and coughing up dust.

"Please," he pleaded weakly. "No more. I told you I had nothing to do with your people being killed!" He looked up at her from the ground with the unmistakable anger on his face. She looked at him with nothing more than a look that expressed dissatisfaction.

"They're not my people."

"Then who are you?!"

She crouched down to him on the floor and looked at him dangerously. "I'm someone you don't want to mess with."

Murphy attempted to stare back at her and stand his ground. Through his attempted look of resentment hid a slightly overpowering look of fear. And the woman caught on quickly.

She clicked her tongue slightly. "Take care of him. He's yours now." The man cracked his knuckles and a dark smile was plastered onto his face as he crept closer. The tribal paint and markings were now easily visible.

The woman stood up and brushed the dust off her pants. She held her chin up slightly and looked at Murphy through half-lidded eyes. "You belong here now." She left in the direction of the door and gave a signaling knock for them to let her out.

Murphy remained stuck in his position on the ground as he watched her leave the room. He looked at the man who crept closer and closer. He began by picking him up and throwing him back on the chair. Slowly and evilly, the man's large hands engulfed Murphy's and soon there was a snap heard. His scream was quickly muffled as the door slammed shut again, leaving him alone once more.

> ~()~()~()~

"Holy shit, Pax," a man said. He looked at the woman as she stepped out into the hallway. She shook her head in disbelief before giving a chuckle.

"Did you get through to him?" He asked.

Pax crossed her arms. "I think we know how he is. He won't learn…" Her tone remained cold and monotonous as her eyes scanned the end of the hallway with disinterest.

"Are they going to kill him?"

"That would be too easy," she widened her eyes at the man. "Besides, he doesn't deserve to die. He deserves to live with the pain. Kieran's in there taking care of him. Maybe he'll even decide to talk, who knows."

The man scratched the back of his neck. He seemed the least threatening of the Grounders at the base. His tan skin contrasted with his light green eyes. He was tall and somewhat muscular.

He looked somewhat hurt at her response. "He's still my _friend_."

"Just because we gave you a chance and he abused his, doesn't mean we'll keep giving it to him," Pax pursed her lips and looked at the man with a slight challenge.

"Well," he started.

"Well what? He's your friend because both of your names start with John? I don't get why you're so loyal. He's much more than just dangerous. He used you and everyone else at your camp."

John Mbege shook his head. "Just—you know the answer. They know everything about us. But he's _still my friend_."

Pax's face gave off a warning expression while John gulped and attempted to stand his ground with her.

"Look," she said firmly. "You mind your business as I do my job, alright?" She jabbed a thumb at her chest. "He's my problem now. _My_ assignment."

John said nothing and stood there, a slight sad look transforming onto his face. He towered over her and kept his ground for a few more moments before changing the subject.

"Tristan and Anya made it back...both with visitors," John said. The slightly worried look still had not dissipated.

"More?" Pax asked. "Whatever. We needed more recruits anyway."

The brunette nodded at John, dismissing him. She walked down the hallway in a long stride. She had some new business to attend to.


	3. Coming of Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some flashbacks into interactions with camp members occur; we finally discover the fates of Bellamy and Finn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few OCs do not belong to me. Their names are Oskar, Lauren, Micah, and Iris. They are given credit on my FanFiction profile.

"God help me, Finn." Clarke wagged a finger in Finn's face. They had been arguing for what seemed like hours over what to do about their depleting water supply and what _not_ to do. As per usual, Finn couldn't help but make snarky comments over Clarke's usual sense of authority and bossiness. This eventually landed him a nice red mark planted neatly onto the side of his face. In all good sense, they were both being difficult over a rather serious situation. The pod they arrived in wasn't the most equipped in terms of shelter, food, or water. The Ark knew that, thus the reason they expected them to do things on their own. Clarke once again felt like she was in the minority in trying to do something for the whole of the camp for once. This was just one example over numerous ones. People were getting thirsty and it seemed like the kids were just too lazy to do anything about it. Of course Clarke had to improvise.

Wells was sitting about three feet away from them on a rock. He had been watching the two bickering ever since Finn decided to tag along and that didn't bode well with Clarke. Wells decided sitting around was only getting nowhere fast.

"Hey," He began, shouting. The two continued to bicker. "Hey! I have an idea!"

Wells even picked up a small rock and threw it through the space between them. It remained unnoticed still. Wells got up from where he was sitting and left, leaving a furious Clarke and a defensive Finn to continue their bickering.

He walked back to where the damned space pod was. He figured he could at least use something out of the wreckage to use as a water supply. Then from there he could transport water back from the river to the camp and boil it for everyone's use. He began this plan by crouching down inside the bottom level of the pod, where the main control room was held. It was hot enough down on Earth as it was and the confined air of the wreckage didn't help. Despite the sweat rolling down his neck and back, Wells searched and searched for what would be suitable enough for water transportation.

Some old fuel tanks. It was perfect.

They were clunky and awkwardly large to carry, so Wells could only bring out two at a time out of the six remaining. Well, one nearly exploded, making it five. He made his way out of the pod and couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself. He accomplished something despite everyone's hateful countenance towards him.

"Hey, Bellamy says that probably isn't the safest idea." Wells was stopped by a short kid no older than thirteen. His warm ivory colored hand blocked the bright sunlight from annoying his deep blue eyes. Despite squinting, he still had a friendly smile on his face.

"Let's just say we were all talking about doing this…" Wells attempted to go past the kid, but he soon followed.

"Hey, wait," the kid said taking big steps as his legs were naturally lanky. "I just wanted to save you the trouble. Bellamy's still kinda the boss around here."

Wells stopped in his place and sighed. The kid meant good, he could see by the gentle smile on his face. The kid shrugged in reply, hinting that he was only doing what others wanted him to do so they would give him a meal that night.

"Okay, look. I'm only trying to do something about the heat. So in a way, I'm earning my keep too."

The kid seemed satisfied by this answer and ran back to whatever he was doing. Wells' eyes followed him to see Bellamy watching them with a scowl on his face. He apparently wasn't happy with whatever Wells was doing—again.

"What the hell are you doing with those?" Bellamy stormed over and attempted to grab them out of Wells hands, only to miss in the process.

"I'm doing something about the water supply. 'Cause last I checked we were running out and it was getting warmer," Wells said.

"Oh yeah?" Bellamy crossed his arms. "And there's a good chance these things still have fuel left in them. Uh-uh. They're not sanitary."

Wells rolled his eyes. "Then we'll wash them, genius."

"Where the hell is the princess and prince charming?" Bellamy spat. He was noticeably grouchy from the warming late Spring air. "Do they know you're doing this?"

"We tried talking about it…let's just say they're busy."

Bellamy could only infer what "busy" meant. Honestly, he didn't want to think about it because the first thing that came to mind was not a pleasant one. He shook it off and assumed they were just busy in general.

After so long of a stare down between the chancellor's son and Bellamy, they had to break it off. They decided to wait until Clarke and Finn got back, or she'd give Wells hell for doing something without her permission first. The two sat on a log and shared it with Atom.

Bellamy didn't really want to be sitting near a privileged child, so he turned to his left and faced Atom. "How ya doing today?"

"Fine, I guess," Atom chuckled. "Being blind isn't so bad. At least I don't have to worry what I look like."

Bellamy nodded; the guilt still hit his chest with a pang. Still, he was glad Atom wasn't bitter over it. That was a plus.

"Whew, it's hot," Atom said, wiping some sweat off his face with his shirt. He began to look noticeably pale and drooped suddenly from the log.

Bellamy tried to reach out for him, calling his name firmly. Wells looked over at the two and bit his tongue so not to say 'I told you so'. Bellamy suddenly felt light-headed himself and found himself falling from his seat and becoming dizzy.

"Hey, cut it out!" Wells said worriedly. The whole series of events were almost ironic in itself.

There was a girl over by one of the tents watching with slight anxiety as they fell from the log. She barely talked to anyone in the camp and preferred it that way. But this wasn't okay. She had to do something about the boys getting heat exhaustion.

She rushed over, dark hair flying as she did so. She knelt down and gently wrapped her hands around Atom's. He groaned in reply and immediately recognized it as a girl's. At first, he figured it was Octavia, but Bellamy hadn't yet said a word beside him so he knew it was someone else.

The girl gently lifted Atom back onto his seat. "Thanks," Atom said weakly. The girl only smiled in reply.

Bellamy blinked a little and caught himself staring at her. She was hiding her face from him. "Hey," he put a hand on her shoulder with a firm grip and pulled her closer to him.

"Are you—Kane's daughter?" Bellamy was entirely confused. No, it had to have been a mistake. Lauren Kane was on the Ark, sheltered and coddled by her separated parents.

The girl had trouble trying to conceal her nervous appearance. She remained silent and focused as she took a water pouch from her belt and allowed Atom to drink from it.

"I asked you a question."

People around seemed to have heard Bellamy's inquires about her name earlier and they began to crowd the area, taking a look for themselves. A few chuckled and then nodded, agreeing that it was definitely her.

"Why are you here?" Bellamy whispered, leaning closer towards her. Atom stuck out his hand and pushed Bellamy away from the girl while she cared for him.

" _So there's another stupid, spoiled bitch with us?" one kid scoffed. "Just what we need."_

"You need to drink more water," she told Atom, ignoring the jeers and scoffs from kids crowding in on her. Wells and Bellamy sat there watching around them in surprise.

Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. "Please don't tell him." She turned to look Bellamy directly in the eye. She was worried and scared enough as it was and whatever motive brought her down with him, Bellamy decided it'd be best not to press her for it anymore.

" _So her highness wants her royal ass whooped?"_

"Hey, shut the hell up you ignorant assholes! Mind your own damn business!" Atom snapped, looking around him in all directions. Surprisingly, the crowd dissipated after that. They were reluctant and slow to leave, scoffing as they did.

Bellamy and Wells both looked at each other thinking the same thing.

"Hey," Bellamy tried leaning in closer to Lauren once more. She turned around and seemed annoyed with him. "I won't tell anyone or let anyone bother you if you decide to be the camp nurse."

Lauren gave him a disbelieving look, her dark eyes portrayed confusion and slight anger. Bellamy figured Clarke was only one person and there was bound to be mishaps here and there. With one extra hand around it'd be easier on everyone.

Lauren heaved a sigh and then looked down at the ground. "Fine. But we have a deal and I wouldn't appreciate it if you decide to break it."

The camp was slowly starting to sew back together. For what it was worth, everyone seemed to be doing what they could to contribute to survival. They were strong, they were together.

 

> ~()~()~()~

The ground lay littered with Grounders and a few unlucky members of the 100. After the sudden impact, it was surprising to see that anything was able to survive. The surrounding area of grass was scorched to the touch except for a small area, where the bodies of Finn and Bellamy lay. The forest was eerily silent, leaving nothing but the echo of the wind hitting the trees and the birds squawking in a warning manner above. The impact of the blast was lucky to have spared Bellamy, but did no justice on Finn's knee. There wasn't much either of them could do for themselves at the moment, as they were unconscious.

Both of them were dreaming of the same thing; Princess. It was an incredible thing to think that after that, their brains were still able to stimulate REM capabilities. But through the haze of things, it seemed like a message, despite not knowing if dreaming of a girl whom they didn't know was alive or not, would be much better than being dead. It was simply something that both of them had to conquer and quickly. The two brown-haired boys forced themselves to wake up.

Finn awoke first in a gasp. He was leaned back on his elbows, scanning around to make sense of what surrounded them. Finn noticed the mutilated body of what was a Grounder crushing his leg and he quickly kicked him off with the leg he could control, revealing a sharp spear implanted deep into his knee. It didn't hurt as bad as Finn expected it to. But maybe he was just being tough, he couldn't really decide on much at that moment. He considered ripping the damned thing out quickly and easily and then figured that would do no good, as it clearly went all the way through flesh and cartilage, pinning him to the ground. He took a sharp inhale of air when he attempted to move and immediately regretted it. It would be best if he got help.

Finn looked over at Bellamy a few feet from him. He was still very much out. From what he could make out, Bellamy seemed to be in OK shape, at least better than Finn. He decided to be casual for the time being, so he sighed and leaned back, putting his hands to rest behind his head as he looked up at the blue sky and passing clouds. He'd just wait patiently until Bellamy woke up.

Eventually, Bellamy did wake up. He shot up from the ground and hastily observed things around him. He was breathing heavily and the first thing that came to mind was his little sister.

"Well, glad you finally woke up."

Bellamy spun his head to the left and saw Finn lying there nonchalantly—with a spear jutting straight out of his knee. Finn turned his head and shot him a little grin. Bellamy just stared in reply.

"I guess it's your turn to save me," Finn remarked as Bellamy got up and stood in front of the spear. Bellamy placed his hands firmly on the spear.

"Woah! Not so fast!" Finn exclaimed. "It's probably not the best idea to rip it out!"

Bellamy observed what he meant and looked down in horror as the spear went straight through his knee and implanted into the thick dirt. He subtly wished Clarke or Lauren was there with him. They'd know what to do.

Clarke…Damnit. He couldn't let himself get carried away. First things were first.

"Can you move, at all?" Bellamy inquired. Finn pursed his lips, still lying straight back. He looked at the sky and shook his head.

"Not very well…hey, hey—!"

Bellamy had cut to the chase and decided to just rip the spear straight out, quickly and easily. That was the exact thing Finn had dreaded him doing, yet the relief when he did slowly overcame him. He could barely feel it being removed.

"What the hell…" Finn murmured. He slowly began to move his leg and groaned. It was a straight shot, apparently, and the blood was quickly drying up from the puncture wound. He could barely move it, let alone bend it, so he didn't even try to for the time being. He noticed Bellamy looked slightly disappointed.

"Hey, I'll just slow you down," Finn said, reading the expression on Bellamy's face. He gulped. "Just go look for the others, I'll be alright."

Bellamy shot him a glare. " _No_. I meant it when I said no one is left behind," he looked around. "There has to be something here…"

Despite the general feud between them, Bellamy couldn't help but feel sorry for that cocky asshole. Finn would slow him down, he knew that. But it was just the right thing to do to stay with him.

There was a sudden rustling of ferns nearby. Bellamy stuck out his hand, to prevent Finn from making anymore pained sounds. The two remained incredibly still, anxious and worried. Not again.

"What is it? Grounders?"

"Shh!" Bellamy looked around and clutched his gun tightly. There was a swift movement through the grass and a dark figure could be seen running. Bellamy's instinct forced him to fire two shots in that direction. When his vision adjusted fully, he could see it was Jones standing before him.

"Don't shoot!" Jones said, palms out in defense. Behind him came Lauren, hands up in defense as well, although she began to approach them. Her medical intuition was intact and she soon rushed over to Finn's side on the ground.

Bellamy put down the gun slowly and began to feel more relaxed at the sight of them. "Where's everyone else?" This was the first question he decided to ask. Jones walked over to Bellamy.

Jones shrugged, honestly. "After that explosion, and that bright light, Lauren and I were just as confused as you two look." He looked over at Finn. "Is it just you two?"

Bellamy nodded. "From the looks of it." Both he and Jones looked back as Lauren dug out medical supplies from the backpack she always carried. Her small, thin hands adjusted the signature dirty yellow touk on her head as she began to inspect Finn's injury.

He was almost pained to ask. "Did you see…Clarke?" he said it in a whisper, slightly embarrassed.

Jones bit his lip and shook his head. "I didn't see anything, sorry."

"Once he's fixed up, we need to go," Bellamy said, changing the subject. Jones only nodded in reply and began to follow Bellamy back to Finn and Lauren.

"Ow!" Finn drawled out once Lauren began to sew up the top of his wound. He reached out for his knee instinctively.

"Sorry," she said cooly. "But I have to make sure you didn't totally rip your popliteus."

Bellamy crossed his arms, looking impatient, but actually remaining calm while she worked on his knee.

"Will he be able to come with us?"

"Seems that way. He just needs to take it easy," she turned to look up at them. "He can't run, so if there's ever a need we have to run, then one of you will have to carry him."

"I'm not slowing them down!" Finn hissed, mainly due to the fact she was applying rubbing alcohol to his wound.

Lauren ignored him. "You're coming with, Collins. Look there has to be more injured people out there, right? And the more people we find and fix up, the closer we will be to finding the ones we care about."

Everyone knew what she meant by that. Lauren didn't mean to sound so bitter, but everyone was expecting Bellamy to totally freak out over the recurrent disappearance of his sister. Because when he got worked up about that, there was no convincing him about other things.

"Right," Jones said. "The best place to start would be where everyone else was—fighting off the Grounders and stuff. There has to be some survivors."

"What happened to your radios?" Bellamy shot him a glare.

"Same thing that happened to yours," Jones pointed to two radios, crushed and unusable, laying by a bush nearby the spot Bellamy and Finn had awoke from. The blast had apparently done them in.

Lauren finished wrapping a roll of gauze around Finn's knee. She backed away as Jones and Bellamy took hold of either side of him. Finn clutched onto both of their arms as he was hoisted up. He grunted as the picked him up off the ground; his knee hurt like hell. But it wasn't time to complain.

"Sure you can go?" Jones said. The two still had not let go of supporting him up.

Finn cleared his throat. "Yeah, just, let me go okay?" The two did as he asked and Finn took slow steps. Damn, it really hurt. But he could still walk and soon grew accustomed to limping around.

Jones wiped the grime and sweat off of his head in the early summer heat. He then looked up to see someone hiding half their body behind a tree. They stood mischievously on the rocky platform above and watched the four with stalking eyes. Bellamy was the first to notice. Lauren and Finn slowly turned up to see what everyone was looking at as she forced him to lean on her for support.

Bellamy aimed his gun in the direction of the figure above. Jones quickly smacked it down.

"Don't shoot!" He said again. The man above came clearer into view. He was a boy their age, if not already eighteen, equipped with a rifle on his back. His blue-green eyes looked cold and menacingly at them while a childish grin played on his face. He ran a gloved hand through his curly light brown locks and gave a cackle. He quickly began to run away, disappearing from view in the covering of trees.

"Who the hell was that?" Finn asked.

Jones sighed. "I only remember him from camp. His name is Micah, that's all I know. He was a really weird kid…always watching and never saying anything. I feel like if anyone bothered him he'd snap worse than John Murphy, so no one did. I don't even remember him from the drop ship."

"Think he's with the Grounders?" Bellamy asked, still unfazed with his sudden feeling of anxiety he got from the boy.

"No," Jones said, scratching his cheek. "Kid was always quiet—we probably just didn't notice him."

Bellamy nodded and began to walk ahead of all of them. "Hmm. Alright, we're leaving."

Finn hated himself for it, but he had to ask. "What about your sister? What about Clarke?"

Bellamy stopped in his tracks. He was already physically exhausted as it was. His heart had been tormented for their well-being ever since he had woken up. He couldn't even escape it in his dreams. Like he had agreed on earlier, Octavia was a strong girl and with Jasper around, she'd be okay. Probably. Bellamy did his hardest to convince himself of that. Clarke was strong too, and wherever she was she was probably okay. _Probably_. Bellamy hated not knowing, he just needed some sort of confirmation—some relief. Still he was convincing himself to think in the present. First things were first. But…

"That's where we're going," the decision-making was burning a hole through him. "We'll…find Octavia first. Maybe she's with some others."

Bellamy took a look at them and sighed. "Well? Come on let's go."

The three of them blinked and began to get their legs working as they followed him. Jones had decided to stay in the back, in a protective formation as Finn limped and leaned on Lauren's shoulder.

Bellamy had two people he just couldn't shake out of his mind and he hated it. Especially that blonde, and she shouldn't have been there. His heart told him otherwise. No spoonful of sugar could make it any sweeter.

' _Damnit Princess, you better be okay.'_

> ~()~()~()~

"Octavia?" Atom called out. During the fight, he knew he hadn't been much use. Everyone was trying to protect him from getting hurt. He was still getting used to following his senses but he just couldn't help the feeling of letting down everyone. He couldn't _do_ anything. There wasn't much he could do about that, all that really mattered was finding Octavia and making sure she was okay—as promised by him and Jasper to Bellamy.

He used the feeling of the bark of the trees against his fingertips as guidance through the unknown terrain. His foot stepped on an incline of rocks and solid, steep ground.

"Octavia? Come on, answer me!"

He sighed in extreme relief when he heard her mumbling nearby. "Jasper? Are you there? Is she okay?"

There was no indication Jasper was close by, so he continued to walk nearer to Octavia's voice.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of her favorite Grounder. His stoic expression still remained, but his eyes couldn't help but soften when he saw that she was alright. She ran up to him, a bright smile was on her face as she wrapped her arms around him.

He took her in an embrace and rested his head in her hair slightly. He brushed her back with a free hand while the other carried a gun. His sharp eyes darted up to see Atom approaching them blindly. He took Octavia and pushed her deeper into his chest protectively as he pointed the gun in a straight line at Atom.

Octavia squirmed from his snug grasp as she heard the gun click. She flew her head around, startled.

"No, Lincoln! Don't hurt him!" She exclaimed and got in between the gun. Atom immediately recognized her voice and stopped in his tracks.

"Octavia?"

Lincoln ignored Octavia for the time being and signaled for her to move out of the way. "Who are you?"

"He's with me!" Octavia pleaded desperately, still in a protective stance between him and the gun. "He's just protecting me! He was just protecting me during the fight, Lincoln, that's all! So don't hurt him!"

"Protecting you is my job," Lincoln jeered.

Lincoln still didn't seem fazed and glared at the man. He seemed relatively harmless, as he didn't have any sort of weapon with him other than a small knife in his pocket. He briefly wondered why the man wasn't raising up his hands or looking directly at them. Octavia answered his thoughts.

"He's blind," Octavia said gently and began to approach Lincoln, pushing the gun away. "Let him come with us."

He continued to look at the blind man, who was looking around confused. Lincoln softened a bit and then sighed.

"Fine. He can come with us." He still hadn't drawn his gaze away from Atom.

Octavia smiled at Lincoln assuredly and went to grab Atom's wrist. Lincoln led the two in the distance and out to their special cave, hidden away from the world and everyone for the time being. There was a lot to tell her.


	4. Standing Rock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover a bit more about the intimidating 'Pax' as well as some fates of the facility's new members.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this. If at any time you are confused, have comments, concerns, questions, or suggestions—then do not hesitate to voice that.
> 
> This is sort of a rising action type of chapter (from a plot diagram viewpoint)

* * *

Pax sat at the desk in her quarters with her legs resting up. She sighed, eyes hanging low on the brink of pure exhaustion. Her temporary chambers at Mount Weather were no more comfortable than the interrogation chambers in the prison ward. The cold, steel room was reflected off of a sole lamp sitting neatly on the desk. Even the desk was made of steel. The walls, floors, cot, sink. That's all you had in the suffocating room. Pax enjoyed keeping her door open slightly, allowing the low-hanging ceiling lights in the hallway to penetrate through. It made it cozier that way and less like a coffin as there were no windows in the basement. It made it more professional.

Slowly, she rubbed her eyes to try and wake herself up. Her shift wasn't yet up. She figured whatever the hell Anya came back with was going to affect her one way or another, as Pax was second-in-command. She didn't much care for Anya's bossiness. From a devil's advocate standpoint, she understood what she was doing; she was just trying to be a good leader. But that still didn't excuse her for the brutality they induced upon hundreds. With Tristan injured and appeased in the clinical ward for the time being, things would be less violent. That was going to be interesting.

Pax abated her time waiting for the call to meet the new visitors by thinking about what to do next. That was just in her nature to think things through in advance. She had to be ready for any and every outcome. Less anxiety, more getting actual things done. She folded her hands neatly on her lap, looking at nothing in particular.

"Hey," a gruff voice said. Pax turned her head around to see two guards standing there, prepped out in orange suits. Their gas masks lay nimbly in their hands and they looked sweaty, trying to catch their breath in the thick air of the basement. The soldiers had returned back from bringing back some guests.

Pax stood up and faced them. "Are they alive?"

"Yes. Minor injuries and a few are in quarantine for the time being."

"Alright," Pax nodded. "Anya wanted to see me?"

"Yes. She and some people—wandered—their way into the mountain. They are in the main wing now."

Pax nodded at them and followed them out. She turned around to close and secure the door and turned around again to see familiar green eyes peering at her anxiously. She didn't say a word and continued her way up the small stairs. He followed behind her, looking at her desperately for an explanation.

"You're not authorized to be down here, John. You're lucky you're being seen with me." She took an authentication card of some sort and passed it through a terminal to be scanned. The automatic doors then allowed access.

Before the doors could close, his hand slammed on it to ram it back open and he followed her through.

"Just tell me what the hell is going on," he demanded. "Tell me what the hell people from my camp are doing here."

She stopped and turned to face him while the two guards continued walking ahead.

"This is a trust thing here. Ever since we took you, faked your death, and then gave you a nice place to stay with showers, food, a bed, and all other necessities, we built a trust that we expected you wouldn't break," she paused momentarily, slightly staring him down. "And you won't break that…right, John?"

He looked at her for a moment, hesitant to answer, and then nodded lightly. "Yes, ma'am."

"If word gets out that I'm telling you classified information, they'll not only kill me, but another war will break out. Do you want that?"

"No ma'am."

"Good. You're just a supply carrier anyway. So I would recommend doing as you're told. You're in the Grounder's main hands. Not ours." With that, she left him standing where he was. He didn't stay long and quickly returned back to the supply rooms.

Pax left down some main corridors, passing by the quarantine hallways in the East Wing. She wasn't surprised to see groups of the men in orange suits crowding their way into rooms. She assumed that business was going to be her next stop. The lights were much brighter in the East Wing, as they had windows and resembled more of a hospital. She was on her way through the central hallways and up to the Northwest Wing, where it was set up with spikes, tripwire, and basic military equipment to fend off passer-byers near the entrance. Obviously, this wasn't the case with what she was about to see. She scoffed a little to herself, to wonder what human—or humans—in their right mind would want to come anywhere near that entrance. At least the South was heavily guarded and much more likely to persuade your way through. Initially she had thought it was Reapers and then threw off an absurd idea since they'd be dead by now and she would've heard rapid gunfire and shouts over her radio and intercom system. Besides, it was near two in the afternoon. Reapers would wait until after dusk.

A sudden thought passed her mind for reasons unknown. Murphy. Why someone so random or insignificant would dare cross her brain was too confusing for her liking. She briefly wondered how he was doing. She swore to herself that no matter what she was told to do in interrogation chambers that she had to shove up creeping emotions down, especially that repulsive pity. Since she stepped foot into the room, seeing his bloodied and whimpering appearance, she couldn't help feel a sort of connection to him. It was ridiculous, really. She got carried away and thought of every possibility; if it was because she was sick of her job, if it was because he was her age, or if it was because he was her assigned case until further notice. She honestly couldn't figure it out. But she certainly didn't feel sorry for him.

Nonetheless, she found herself curious as to what exactly he was hiding. She knew he wasn't an idiot, but that he was certainly too abrasive for his own good. Whatever brought him to be working for both sides was an incredible motive that she wanted to get to the bottom of.

Pax stopped a Grounder nearby, hoping he knew. "Hey, do you know about J. Murphy?"

The man grunted and then took a look through some folders. "Oh. Him? Recently, they moved him into a chamber of his own, gave him a shower and medical treatment, and then injected him with the serum. He was telling the truth without the serum. He's also pretty drugged up."

Pax nodded and thanked the man for his time. So, that ignorant son of a bitch was actually telling the truth when he didn't know about the impending war. She had a hard time believing that…surely, serum or not, he was hiding a lot of valuable information. But she convinced herself it was just because he was a vengeful teenager and nothing more. It still didn't seem right…

She had more important things to worry about than John Murphy. He would wait until later.

Pax found her way into the main chambers, aka the control room, where they had cameras on nearly every room in the base camp at Mount Weather. She walked down the hallway to see guards already there, and the door wide open. She stepped inside to see that she wasn't going to be the main interrogator—Anya was.

"I'm not going to ask nicely anymore." Anya was seen close to the faces of two individuals near the age of forty tied up in chairs. It was a man and a woman who looked like they could easily be parents to the delinquents. Pax stood by the door with her arms crossed, hoping Anya didn't get carried away as she was already beginning to show signs of extreme frustration.

"I told you," the woman in the chair spoke up, much calmer than her eyes had shown. "We're just looking for our kids…one hundred to be exact. If you people would please just let us see them, unharmed…"

The woman was cut short as Anya slapped her in the face. "Shut up…you're the ones who are a danger to our community."

The woman stayed silent, her dark eyes showing fear while her face remained strong. Pax noticed that the man next to the woman was eyeing one of the men in the room oddly, acting slightly suspicious, but Pax blew it off for the time being.

"We've done what we could with those deviants and then they were spared," Anya said coldly. "I can assure you they are safe, but I cannot permit you to interfere more than you already have."

Anya looked at the floor for a moment, contemplating something, and looked back up at them dangerously. She whipped a knife out of its case and was about to hurt them before Pax stepped in.

"Anya," Pax said firmly. Anya turned around and sneered at the sight of the brunette. She reluctantly put the knife away and glared.

"Maybe you'd like to enforce what I've just told them."

Anya stepped aside as Pax cut in front of her to stand directly in front of the two prisoners. Instead of doing as Anya suggested, she crouched down to their level and relaxed slightly.

"What are your names?" Pax said calmly. Her voice remained firm and unyielding.

Anya opened her mouth in protest but stopped herself from going further. Something had to be done here, and it had to be handled with force and interrogation, not care.

"I'm Abagail Griffin," the woman gave a weak smile. "This is Marcus Kane." The man did as much as stare back at Pax. They both looked weary and hopeless as if they had been traveling for days.

"Griffin?" Anya inquired.

"Yes," Abby furrowed her brows in confusion. "Is there something—"

Both Pax and Anya looked at each other. As often as they feuded over how to do things due to the different groups they belonged to, now they were finally going to see eye to eye. And it gave them both a new sense of power.

 

> ~()~()~()~

Clarke's eyes flew open and squinted again as they were trying to adjust to the bright light. Her heart jumped suddenly as her brain realized she was in an unfamiliar place. She got up from the bed she was laying in slowly and realized she was clean and in a hospital gown of some sort. She even felt clean.

Her mind was racing a million miles per minute, questions flooding it and giving her a slight headache. She had to find out what the hell was going on and where the hell she was. She removed the tubes and needles out of her arm with a slight wince and then removed the wires and plugs, making the heartbeat monitor beep erratically. She looked around the room. Everything was—white. The dresser, the couch, the bed, the walls, her gown. Everything was monochromatic and eerily silent.

Clarke flew the sheets off of her and let her feet reach cold flooring. She moved around slowly, hesitantly, observing every detail about the rather barren room that she could. The blonde was focused on the door straight ahead, as it had a window. She could even make out someone on the other side but her eyesight was still adjusting. She reached the door, looking left and right, and then saw familiar wide black eyes staring at her with a confused expression.

"Monty?" she whispered. She even banged on the window slightly and he did the same. Confusion was a common element by now. But she had to get out of there. No matter what it took, Bellamy and the others still needed her because for whatever crazy reason, she knew, they weren't there with her.

Monty then told her to wait and briefly went to go grab something. He returned back with what looked to be a small whiteboard that he had found in his own room. Luckily, he found something to write with and wrote "Miller" with an arrow pointing to the left on it.

Clarke's eyes widened. So…more people were in there with her than she originally thought. Clarke then had more questions for Monty but couldn't find a whiteboard of her own in the room. She was looking around and suddenly jumped when the door behind her opened. She turned around slowly and reluctantly to see men in orange suits and gas masks standing there. She couldn't help but feel uneasy at the guns in their hands.

"Griffin," one of them said with a muffled voice. "This way."

She slowly got her feet moving to the door again and saw Monty still plastered at his window, watching with intent fear. The men in orange suits pushed her as she found herself staring at Monty down and down the hallway. Her heart sank as they took her in the opposite direction of where Monty said Miller was. But then she realized her room was the first on the right in the hallway.

Clarke couldn't help but stare at everything she passed by as they nudged her along to follow them. Men in orange suits and even a few Grounders flooded the hallways that she walked past. They stared intently back at her. The lights ahead of her on the ceiling seemed to move in waves as they she passed under them, staring straight ahead at the never-ending corridor of white and steel. She hoped they weren't there to kill her. After cleaning her up and treating her back in her room, it just didn't make sense.

She was led into darker and more menacing hallways. The place was huge, and she found no evident way to even begin to think of an escape route. The men in orange suits took her down a rather exclusive hallway and into the only room on the far left. They had kept their masks on, hiding their identity from her, but pushed her into the room with great strength. The room and doorway was heavily armed.

Clarke couldn't believe her eyes. "Mom?" Without hesitation she ran straight to her mother, only able to give her a hug as Abby had her hands tied tightly behind her back.

"Clarke," Abby smiled, tears welling up. "It's okay. You're okay."

"Mom, what's going on? Why am I here?" Clarke sobbed. Abby only told her to shush, attempting to keep her calm as Clarke looked up in horror to see cameras on the rooms she was just in. She turned around and saw a few Grounder-type guards standing there with cold faces and Anya and a brunette remaining stoic as they stared at her.

"What?" Clarke started. "Where am I?"

"Mount Weather," Anya said, still not yielding her blank expression. "You're here for good now."

Clarke looked back at her mother with hopeful blue eyes. Abby merely shook her head and bit her lip.

"No, no, no." Clarke stood up straight now, breathing heavier, and looking around with tears threatening to spill. "Why is it this way? Why are you doing this?"

Anya's tone became harder. "We are giving you a home, now, and this is how you thank us? Don't you get it? There won't be any more wars now and a few of your people are here for good."

Clarke glanced at the brunette next to the Grounder princess. She looked at Clarke with a similar cold expression, but it softened once their eyes met and she found herself looking at the ground, apparently reluctant to allow Anya to get her way with something.

Clarke walked straight up to Anya, looking into her eyes for answers. "You listen to me. We tried to make peace with you, we didn't want to do what we had to do—"

"But you still did it," Anya spat.

"And that's in the past. You keep my friends safe and I swear—"

"Ned," Anya called, now looking away from Clarke with a bored expression. She was obviously not in a mindset to listen to anymore pleas.

"Ned" came over and began to drag Clarke out of the room. The blonde suddenly looked nervous and began to thrash around, furious as to why Anya wouldn't answer anything.

"No! You can't! Tell me what's happening! Tell me-!"

The room became quieter as Clarke's pleas and yelling ceased further down the hallway.

Anya looked to see Pax had already been staring at her. The feeling of disdain and annoyance grew between them. Their eyes remained locked until Anya gave a dismissive wave at the two prisoners in front of her and then began to leave, allowing Pax to deal with them on her own.

Pax looked at the ground in frustration and sighed. She looked back to see the prisoners staring at her expectantly with wide eyes. Abby was the most confused. The brunette before her looked to be Clarke's own age and she couldn't figure out why she could possibly be working for Anya. She wasn't a Grounder and she wasn't a delinquent. She looked over at Kane for some sort of confirmation but found he was staring at her with the same observance that befell both of their faces. Pax's dutiful and emotionless voice filled the air suddenly.

"The remaining members of your people and kids try to return for them, and Anya won't hesitate in killing them. So, please, for your sake do as you're told. Or she may as well have your daughter kill them," she paused before stepping out of the room. "She may even have her kill _you_."

She left without another word.


	5. Lost Causes

It was Raven's turn to awake. She shot up from the hammock, surprised to see that any pain she felt was gone. She looked down at her gunshot wound and saw that it was nearly completely healed over. Initially, this didn't make sense, and she thought she had died. There was just no other explanation. She stood still for a few moments, careful not to take any lack of pain for granted. She suddenly became confused; nothing but silence filled her ears.

This just wasn't normal. Being the daredevil she was, Raven got up on her feet. For how empty the drop ship and surroundings were it wasn't the most uncomfortable feeling.

"Guys?" She called out. There was no reply but her voice slightly echoing off of the metal walls encompassing her.

Her legs were shaky, but she had to get going if she wanted to reunite with the others. Suddenly, an oddity hit her. Her hammock was the only remaining piece of anything around her. No other hammocks, no bags, no supplies. She briefly explored the rest of the drop ship in hopes of finding someone or at least someone's belongings. There was nothing. Even the old circuits hanging about seemed to be lifeless. The empty sound was like being in an aquarium.

She slowly and reluctantly made her way outside. Her dark brown eyes narrowed as they scanned around her. The entire camp looked as if a hurricane had come through and everyone took whatever they could take with them. There were empty and torn tents, sticks and leaves thrown around, and any belongings or supplies were missing just as they were on the drop ship. Raven hesitated taking a step further. She had no way to defend herself. She looked above her at the bright green treetops to make sure no one was waiting above, and then she checked the distance. It seemed safe so far, so she exited the ramp and took a shaky footing on the muddy ground. There weren't even signs that she had belongings anymore. Everything was charred into ash.

Still, the strong headed brunette knew that loitering around would get her nowhere fast so she made her way to the wall. It looked like absolutely no signs of any human life had passed through. Or, if it had, it was quick and digressed suddenly.

Raven moved as quickly as she could. Her legs ached and felt like she hadn't moved around properly in ages. This was partially true. Being close to the wall she had to find old hideouts where she assumed a carbine or two would be. And, she was right. Luckily, there was a relatively cold carbine lying against one of the stone reinforcements. She checked to see if the barrel had overheated and was relieved to find the loaded gun hadn't even been used once. She walked around a few feet and tore some fabric off of tents to use as a harness to equip the gun on her back. She felt like some sort of weapon would come in handy later. As she made her way through the thick forest, searching for anyone in particular, she noticed a spot on the ground where there looked to be a struggle. She bent down in the spot and felt that it was still warm. Someone had obviously been unconscious and then struggled as someone dragged them away. Raven looked around; something wasn't right.

"Raven?"

The brunette turned behind her startled as she saw a familiar and slightly confused face hobble towards her. He held the gun in his hand protectively as he approached her without thought.

She sighed. "Jesus, Bellamy. Don't do that. Especially around here."

Bellamy ignored her and lightly smiled before his expression suddenly darkened. "I thought you weren't going to make it," he said quietly.

"It looks fused together. I'm just as confused as to why I'm alive as you are." Raven lifted up her shirt in proof. The seeping bullet wound that had inflicted her side previously was now nothing but new pink flesh healing over itself with scar tissue.

Raven heard footsteps crunching on the flora behind Bellamy and peered behind him as he stood over her to find Jones, Lauren, and Finn making their way towards them.

"You found friends," she commented. She got up from her crouching position and brushed her pants instinctively. She stood up tall and crossed her arms with her unmistakable smirk.

"Hey, is anyone back at camp?" Jones asked, half out of breath.

Raven shook her head, the smirk dropping. "You won't find anything here, either. It's totally barren expect for a few things here or there."

"No supplies?" Bellamy asked.

"Barely."

"Oskar make it back to you?"

Raven hesitated a moment. "I thought—I thought he was with you?"

"No," Bellamy sighed. "I told him to keep us posted by the wall. Didn't hear anything since we woke up and found each other."

"What the hell is going on, Bellamy?" Raven changed the subject and uncrossed her arms in protest. "You can't say the Grounders are one hundred percent behind all that's going on."

"No, I can't. That's what we're trying to find out." Bellamy motioned to Finn as he rested on Lauren's shoulders. "As you can see, Finn's hurt and the radios are dead. We woke up and found them totally destroyed."

"Nothing I can't fix," Raven's smirk returned. "Besides, that could be our ticket to see if anyone else knows what happened."

Bellamy nodded; relieved to have been able to hear she may actually be able to fix the radios. He was getting to the point of desperation to find remaining Hundred members, knowing they could well be split in half.

"Alright then, let's go."

The group now obtained a new member. They didn't bother to search the camp, as there really was nothing to search for. They decided to head back to where Bellamy and Finn had woken up to retrieve the broken radios and then bring them back to the drop ship. Raven hoped she could find some wires or connections to work with in restoring the radio's broken parts. It was their first resort to contact anyone else and hopefully not their last.

After so long of hobbling around on his one good leg while leaning his bad side on Jones and Lauren, Finn began to get irritated. Raven and Bellamy walked ahead in a blind trail appearing to know where they were going.

"Wait," Finn said. He suddenly forced the two to stop. "This isn't right."

Bellamy stopped in the front of the group and turned around. "What do you mean it isn't right? This is the exact path we came from. The radios are down this wa—"

"No, they're not!" Finn forced himself to limp over to show him proof. "This dirt path and the one we came on are different. Look, there's a drop over there. We want to be by that covering of low-hanging trees. That was the actual way we came."

Finn limped a little closer by a tree near the drop he was talking about. "We go that way and we go to the cliff we found Charlotte's body at," he cringed a little and then sighed. "We need to go northwest."

Raven looked at Bellamy for confirmation of these observations. Bellamy wasn't entirely happy, but he still figured Spacewalker knew what he was talking about in terms of directions. So they kept on. They even reluctantly agreed to allow Finn to lead the group. Lauren stood in the very back, cursing under her breath at him for putting any pressure on a recently impaled knee.

"So, I heard you're Kane's daughter." A voice spooked Lauren out of her mood. She looked up to see Jones watching her intently.

"Yeah, I guess it's not news anymore," she sighed, irritated and sensitive to the subject.

"Look, I don't think it matters anymore down here. What matters is staying alive."

"Easy for you to say. I'm tired of getting all the shit for being an infamous leader's daughter. I'm just sick of having people expect me to turn out just like him. Well, newsflash, I'm _not_."

Jones remained silent and watched her as she glared into the distance. Back in the Skybox, she was treated fairly equal to the rest of the delinquents. For whatever reason, she kept to herself and didn't seem like the kind of person one would wish to associate with. No one knew her name. She didn't even look like Kane, but more like her mother Callie Cartwig. Little did anyone know Callie was the one who let her daughter do things around the Ark that Kane would be furious about otherwise. She even had custody of their daughter but Kane was the enforcer. This coddled lifestyle that he had pressured upon her was mostly due to the fact he didn't want her to regress into depression like he had. Even though a man like him would never admit it. So Lauren was able to be placed in the Skybox a week before the decision to move the delinquents to Earth. Callie had bribed her daughter's entrance and kept identification of her a secret as she knew Lauren would make her proud as she ventured to Earth. Once Kane found out about this, he nearly lost his mind, and this was the driving force as he traveled from the Ark camp with Abby in search of others.

" _Finn!"_

The sudden scream from Raven startled the two as the rushed their way to the front of the group. Finn was nowhere to be found, but Raven and Bellamy were both crouched over a steep drop with their arms reached out. Jones pushed his way through and lifted Finn up with ease.

"Right way my ass," Raven mumbled under her breath.

The group was glad to see that he hadn't dropped to a thirty foot death. While Finn lay on the ground recovering, Bellamy took a few steps over to carefully see below. The rocky drop was hidden from the surrounding trees and floras, making it appear as a large boulder from the clearing. That large boulder was actually the low-lying roof of what looked to be some sort of cave or nook. Bellamy's eyes squinted as something dark caught his vision. He crouched down and nearly doubled over at what he saw. His silence prompted the others to venture over to see what he was looking at.

"Oh my God."

"Jasper!"

Jasper was lying unconscious on the gray terrain below, his arm and goggles were the only things easily recognizable. The rest of his body and face was craftily hidden from view by the jagged angles of the tunnel.

"Jasper!" Bellamy's voice thundered and was answered with silence. It didn't look like Jasper fell as there were no signs of blood or loose rocks below.

"Get me a rope of some sort," Bellamy ordered. "I'm going down."

They did as he told and quickly left to find some twine or part of a plant they could fuse together to propel down with. Raven stood there, observing for any possible ways Jasper could've gotten there. Jones and Lauren returned back with a thick, sturdy vine. It was questionable if it would hold Bellamy's weight or not, but they had to at least try.

With his gun holstered on his back, Bellamy tied the rope around his waist several times and handed the end of it to the three. He began to climb down by clutching the edge of the drop and found a few recesses were he could place his feet. He nodded to go and they began feeding the rope to him slowly as he began to propel down.

Suddenly, some cracking and crunching above began to take place. Finn looked behind him to see nothing. He looked around some more as the air began to feel unsteady.

"What is it?" Bellamy called. He could sense something wasn't right.

The crunching of leaves and sticks ceased suddenly, leaving the air to be chilly and unsettling. Jones, Raven, and Lauren were too focused on carefully feeding the vine down to Bellamy as he ventured down. But, Finn's instinct had pushed through. A menacing mountain lion was prowling through the grass, growling and staring at them.

"Well this is familiar," Finn murmured. He let go of the rope and began to point his gun defensively at the creature.

Lauren was the closest to Finn in the line and looked behind her. "Oh no," she gasped. "Jones, take hold of the rope."

Jones looked behind and his eyes widened at what he saw. He and Bellamy were the two most muscular men out there, but he couldn't let Raven support Bellamy's weight by herself.

"What is it?" Raven asked. She sensed something wasn't right. Bellamy stopped where he was on a certain nook in the rocky wall and looked up in anticipation.

"Don't worry about it, just keep it steady."

Raven looked behind anyway and turned back quickly. Her heart raced furiously, but she managed to stay focused on the line.

"Raven, Jones? What's going on?" Bellamy called.

"Nothing," Raven replied with a fake calm voice. "Everything's fine. Just keep on going, Bellamy."

Jones couldn't keep his eyes ahead as he saw Finn and Lauren attempting to scare it off. With the way the creature was lurking closer and closer towards them, it could easily kill them all in one fair swoop. He hated to do it, he really did. But he had no choice. He got out his gun and pointed it directly at the lion. It growled and ran off in the distance.

Hearing its menacing growl was enough for Bellamy to stop again. Raven grunted a little as she struggled to hold the vine by herself.

"Raven, tell me what's going on!" Bellamy ordered. Raven just shook her head in protest and insisted everything was fine and that Jasper was the priority.

But the vine wasn't doing so well in terms of carrying the weight and began to strip slightly. Bellamy still had at least twenty more feet to go. The part of the vine that began to strip apart was causing a friction on Raven's hands. She groaned and still managed to hold the weight as best as she could.

The mountain lion was back as it announced it by roaring and lunging at the three who were fending it off. Several gunshots were heard and as the lion came straight for Jones, he lost his balance and bumped into Raven. As the vine was now slipping further and further down, Finn defeated the lion with three more shots to the head. It lay defeated in the covering ferns.

By now everything was almost happening too fast to process. The vine kept slipping and slipping, sending Bellamy down fast and quickly without much warning.

"Let go, Raven! Let go!" Lauren yelled.

Raven didn't know why she didn't release her hold in the first place, but as the last of vine quickly sped through her grip, it burned straight through her gloves. She didn't feel it at first and then yelled out in pain as the vine hit the bottom of the drop with a whip. Luckily, Bellamy wasn't hurt and managed to safely reach the bottom.

Lauren ran over to Raven and made her hold out her hands. The rope made out of vine scraped straight through gloves and cut her hands like knives. She reached into her backpack and took out some gauze to stop the bleeding and cover the wounds to prevent a staph infection.

"Bellamy, you okay?" Jones called out. Bellamy looked up, relieved, to see Finn and Jones peeking their head over the edge.

"Yeah! How's the girls?" Bellamy called. He was answered with a thumb up. "Look, I think this cave is deeper than we think. I want you guys to wait up there for a while and if I don't find some way out after so long then I want you to go ahead and find the others."

"No! We'll find some other way to come down there—"

"Just do as I say!" Bellamy yelled. The two disappeared after that, taking his orders into consideration. Bellamy sighed and turned around to see Jasper knocked out on the ground. He figured by the looks of it that he wouldn't be waking up anytime soon and the best measure to take would be to carry him through the tunnel himself.

Bellamy bent down and hoisted Jasper's body over his shoulder with all his strength. The tunnel ahead really wasn't all that dark; it had streams of light reflecting off of the gray shimmery walls and floors through cracks at the very top. It was somewhat beautiful down there. It had a slightly magical feel to it. He struggled a bit as he tried to balance the weight on his shoulder. He had to at least find a safer spot to set him down at.

Traveling further down, he was able to find a flat sheet of rock to sit on and set Jasper's body beside him. The roof of the cave above where Bellamy sat was settled several feet up like a canopy. The light seemed to shine the brightest in that damp spot. He figured to take off the stiff boots from his feet while he rested there. The boots hadn't done much justice in preventing dirt and deep purple scratches to form. His shirt and pants were ripped and covered in dirt and sweat. There wasn't much he could do in terms of that.

An echo of what sounded like a rock splashed deeper down in the tunnel. Bellamy quickly grabbed his gun instinctively and waited for more movements. It was silent. Then another drop of a rock. He was aimed to shoot in the direction of the approaching noise. He was surprised to see a rock roll in his direction and stop at the base of his feet. He looked up and sighed in relief.

"Oskar," he breathed. The platinum blond haired teen casually walked towards Bellamy without looking directly at him. His hands were in his pockets and he was kicking rocks around.

"Don't scare me like that." A flash of anger passed by Bellamy's face for a split second and then was quickly replaced by relief.

Oskar Aleksandr Ushakov was his name. He pushed the side bangs from irritating his eyes and a smile appeared on his face. "Nice to see you too," he said. The boy took a seat between Bellamy and Jasper's body, his legs not reaching the ground.

Bellamy was incredibly relieved to see that Oskar had made it through alright. He was one of the youngest members in lockup, yet also one of the most action and exploring oriented. It was no surprise to see that he had been casually exploring around the deep tunnels of the cave. His curiosity had always been a forte and the prime reason he had been arrested. The bruises and cuts on his body were proof enough.

"Is he alright?" Oskar looked down at Jasper's pale face and frowned.

"I think so, I found him by the entrance," Bellamy sighed. "Is there any other way out of here?"

"Nope. There's not much from the way I came. A little puddle of water, nothing more. Only way in and out is that way." Oskar pointed in the direction Bellamy came.

"So, we're basically screwed…" Bellamy mumbled, irritated at nothing in particular.

"Not necessarily," Oskar assured him. He put a hand on Bellamy's shoulder. "I just got down here not too long ago. If there's more down there then I'd need some kind of light source."

Oskar suddenly began rummaging through the belongings that Jasper had still attached to his back. He triumphantly brought out a flashlight.

"Like this," he smiled.

Bellamy took it gratefully. "Good, and then we'll find the others this way."

"Sure, but don't you think it's best to wait until he wakes up first?" Oskar motioned to Jasper. His face remained stoic and still.

Bellamy sighed. He was getting impatient and was slightly frustrated that Jasper had to go and get himself knocked out cold again. It was really just bad timing at this point. He reluctantly nodded.

"Thanks, kid."

And for the time being, Oskar would keep Bellamy company.


	6. Powhatan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linctavia fluff, some angst, and intrigue. Because why the hell not?
> 
> However, Octavia doesn't put up with staying in one place too long.

The light from the campfire made Octavia's eyes glow in astonishment as Lincoln showed her some of his scribbles and drawings. There were mainly drawings of Mountain Men, nature, random passages, and even some of Octavia. Seeing this made Octavia's heart glow, even if she didn't comment about it. It was relaxing to enjoy each others' company in the soothing atmosphere of the cave. Lincoln had his fair share of explaining everything that was happening with Octavia and he felt like peace and quiet would ease his mind. Atom was napping on the cold ground behind them.

Lincoln looked up and released himself from his thoughts. "We need to go."

Octavia looked up at him slightly panicked. "What do you mean? What's going on?" She could sense the urgency in his voice. He wasn't much up to explaining things lately.

"We need to leave now," he lowered his voice. "If we do then we'll make it to my village by nightfall."

She didn't necessarily agree with this idea and was almost too exhausted to put up a fight or argue. He made her a lot calmer than she intended to anyway. With Lincoln she knew that she had a better chance at surviving than if she tried to go alone.

"What about Atom?" she asked.

Lincoln stared at her for a moment and then bent down in his belongings. Atom was still very much asleep at the moment and it was the perfect opportunity for Lincoln to make sure he got his way. The Grounder whipped out a ragged cloth and some herbs. He quickly ground the herbs with his hands, making it refined and coarse enough to dissolve into the fabric. He then crouched over to Atom's sleeping body and began to cover his face.

"Lincoln, what are you doing?!"

He ignored her and continued to place the cloth directly over Atom's slightly open mouth and nose. He didn't even move a muscle. After several seconds he opened Atom's eyelids and then made a confirming grunt. He then hoisted a now unconscious Atom up off of the ground and in his arms.

He continued to walk past Octavia out of the cave.

"Lincoln?" She grabbed his arm. He stopped and turned around. "I don't appreciate you just doing whatever you want without explaining things to me."

Lincoln kept the stoic expression. "I'm placing him outside. We're close enough to your people that they'll either find him or he will find them when he wakes up. It's best if he didn't go with us."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm already taking you with me. One guest is enough for my tribe."

The thought never occurred to her. She could admit she was being selfish, but putting up a fight with Lincoln wouldn't do her much good at the moment. She allowed him to walk past her, taking Atom in his arms and finding a spot beneath a tree to place him under. Lincoln knew best…she just had to tell herself that.

He stood at the mouth of the cave, motioning for her to bring the few belongings with them and to put out the fire. He was noticeably irritable, mostly due to the lack of time he felt he had and not so much at Octavia. She caught onto this and followed behind him, slightly annoyed that she wasn't independent for once.

So, the pair unhooked the horse they had ridden to the cave on from a nearby tree. Lincoln saddled up first and helped Octavia up so that she sat behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and was careful not to put too much pressure on his recently cauterized wound.

They rode on into the distance. The horse galloped as fast as it could through the dense woods and began its journey through unrecognized territory. To Octavia, it all pretty much looked the same. But to Lincoln, he knew the state inside and out since it was part of his culture. The horse rode through winding turns and low trees for several minutes before coming on an old and worn path. The path was far from anywhere else and it was annexed from the others by a steep rock blocking the path. With the horse, it made it possible to jump over and reach the other side of the clearing, to which the two were met by a solitary path with trees in a row on either side of the path. The trail they were now traveling on used to be a country road before the apocalypse. Now its base was brimming over with concrete that had been torn up and green nature that overtook any previous signs that cars had once traveled there. The real story was that the path was torn up by tribes of Grounders back in the day that had made the path especially for trading purposes. They removed the decaying cement and asphalt that had once lined it and raked it into nothing but solid brown dirt leading aimlessly into the distance. By now different tribes of these so-called Grounders feuded often, resulting in power-hungry selfishness and lack of commute on the trails they had worked effortlessly to create.

The road to Lincoln's village in the east took hours to get to. They only stopped twice; to eat and take a bathroom break or something. They still remained rather quiet towards each other. Something was still quite intimate about riding on a horse with Lincoln, and Octavia couldn't help but feel like her prince was carrying her off to safety. But it was an obscure thought and Octavia blushed just thinking about it. She couldn't let herself get carried away over stuff like that. Did she care about Jasper? Of course. And she couldn't help but feel guilty whenever his face popped up in her mind. She wondered about how she was treating him more like a friend lately, if he was even going to live another day, and if he did, if he still felt the same way about her. When it came to Lincoln, it was like she felt an instant connection, more like they clicked together. Jasper, she could reasonably say, was more out of pity and she hated herself for that. Love on the ground was so complicated.

The sun was setting and the mid June sky was painted with a dim yellow and orange ombré. Octavia was feeling slightly queasy from the constant up-and-down motion of the long horse ride, but she managed to keep what few contents were in her stomach inside. They quickly passed under a clearing of trees into an astonishing and peculiar sight. They had arrived at the village. Octavia's head was pounding as the horse slowed down its speed through the village. She was surprised; she had expected dirt houses and people wearing loincloths with spears acting like savages by a fire. In fact, Lincoln's tribe appeared to be far more civilized than the initial Grounders she had acquainted with. The houses were painted wood with real glass panes for windows and styled colonially. The people wore ragged and shabby clothes that looked like they had been passed down for generations and resembled similar tattoos as Lincoln. Several people stared at Octavia as they passed through and then respectfully got out of the way for Lincoln. Some children were playing with an old soccer ball in the street, laughing and smiling.

"Hello." One of the children looked at Octavia with a gentle smile. The boy held a soccer ball in his hands and watched as the horse went by.

Octavia seemed surprised at first and then allowed herself to smile and wave. The children ran up onto a ramp made out of boards and into a pottery shop.

Lincoln remained stoical and kept riding until he reached a sort of orchard with grapevines, orange trees, and various other foods you would find in a garden. It must have been an acre wide. It was secluded from the rest of the village, and the entrance was only a small part of it. The residential parts were scattered to prevent any sort of easy access for hostile Grounder groups or Reapers. Octavia had to admit, his village was incredible. The people had amazing decorating skills and carefully arranged everything in their village—buildings, clothes, paintings, pottery, gardens—it was beautiful. She couldn't help but smile wide as she stared at everything in awe. Once they made their way through the entrance of the orchard, Octavia reached her hand out and touched a bright red apple hanging from a tree. Lincoln looked back at her from the corner of his eye and turned back before allowing a slight smile to fall upon his face. He kept riding straight ahead past the lines of trees and bushes on the ground. The path from the orchard fell in a straight line, decorated with flat stones embedded into the dirt to mock a cobblestone appearance.

After a few more feet, a house was now visible. It was no bigger than the ones back in town and seemed to only have one story instead of two. A man who resembled Lincoln with a long beard and graying hair welcomed them as he walked outside. Lincoln hobbled off of the horse and helped Octavia down, who seemed dizzy and nearly lost her footing.

The man went up to Lincoln straight away, took his hands in his, and did a bow. "Lincoln…welcome home." The man turned his gentle gaze to Octavia, who seemed to give him an unsure smile.

"Did you bring home a new fiancé?" The man asked.

"Da—"

Octavia quickly changed from awkward to fiery in seconds. She approached him angrily. "Um, excuse me? What did you say?" She fought hard at the blush making its way to her face.

Lincoln bent over to her ear. "Ignore my father," he sighed.

His so-called father simply gave out a hearty laugh and then released his grip from Lincoln's hands. This only angered Octavia more, sending her storming straight for him only to be held back by Lincoln.

"I didn't know you would find an outsider," he said. "So, tell me, what tribe are you from?"

"She's not from a tribe," Lincoln grumbled. His father raised an eyebrow at him. "Those shooting stars we saw…well…I guess you could say she's one of them. Dad, this is Octavia."

Lincoln's dad made a sudden gasp, his eyes wide in astonishment. "I've only ever heard of those stories! We all thought they were just some made up fairy tales! _'Go now and seek the stars, for they have people living near Mars'_! So tell me, how long have you lived in space? Was it fun? You're not going to have some otherworldly powers are you?"

"Okay, Dad, that's enough," Lincoln said. "Don't scare her," he mumbled. His father gave a laugh again.

Octavia really wasn't sure what to think of his father. He seemed way too bubbly and nosy for his own good.

"Well," Lincoln's father announced loudly, sucking in his stomach slightly. "It's past dinnertime, so I guess you two are probably expecting a feast of some sort. Probably serves you travelers right. Oh, and call me Enoch."

Octavia smiled politely. "Thanks…Enoch."

Enoch led them inside his house. It resembled an old log cabin from books Bellamy used to show her of residential areas of pre-Apocalyptic Earth. Once inside, there were large shelves that lined the walls with hundreds of dusty books to fill them. There were even a few molds and paintings of famous philosophers and religious figures on the wall. She assumed Enoch was a philosopher or artist of some kind—or at least a historian.

For whatever reason, a photograph of Lincoln and a young woman caught her eye. She didn't even think they had cameras down there but everything was still in the process of surprising her.

She traced over the dusty frame and picked it up. "Who is this?"

Lincoln stopped and looked at her while Enoch kept walking to the kitchen. He sighed. "That was my wife before she got the flu a few years back. I was seventeen when I got married. It was arranged but I—" he paused.

"Well, she was very beautiful," Octavia said quietly, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'm sorry."

Lincoln only nodded in reply. He began to leave but Octavia was quickly overcome by curiosity. "How old are you now?" she asked. He had never told her before.

"Twenty-one," he stated blankly. Octavia seemed surprised. He looked and acted much older than that. Still, she didn't question it.

"I turned seventeen today," Octavia said quietly, unsure if he would hear or not. It was a thought that had only just then been brought up in her mind. She would've forgotten otherwise.

"Well, happy birthday," Lincoln said with a smile. Octavia looked up at him slightly surprised and then nodded. He left to follow his father into the kitchen. She took one last look at the picture in her hands and set it down gently before following him for dinner.

> ~()~()~()~

The pair lay under the covers, Lincoln on top of her and her on the bottom in her bra. They looked at each other and giggled at an inside joke they shared earlier in the day. Octavia smiled. It was good to see him laugh, being as serious as he was. The candlelight reflected a deeper meaning of connection as it flashed over their faces. It was the first time in weeks that Octavia had slept in a bed and the fact she was with Lincoln at that moment seemed to give her some energy. They had got to know each other through mainly eye contact and few words, but that seemed to suffice, and they were soon laughing. He had even joked about possibly angering her brother of what they had recently accomplished, to which Octavia replied with her signature eye roll and sass that he didn't need to know. They were miles away from her brother.

Lincoln's face had softened, showing her a side of him that she knew existed, but was hidden well. She stared back, enamored with his dark eyes as they met her green ones. He kissed her instantly and she found herself lost in his passion. She put a gentle but firm hand on the back of his neck as he kissed her a bit more roughly. He put his right hand on her side and brushed it up and down, eliciting a small shiver from her. She now wrapped both of her arms around his neck, giving him a subliminal message that she was enjoying the moment. Lincoln put a few love bites near her collarbone and she shuddered in reply. Enoch slept on the other side of the house, snoring the night away…

Eventually though, the long night came to a halt. The early morning sunrise was peeking its way through the windows, filling the white curtains with bursts of light. Octavia awoke first, and was face to face with Lincoln's toned back. She dreamed about her brother and everyone else back at the camp and suddenly became paranoid. What if they were dead? They would search for her and possibly get themselves killed in the process—again. She got up from the bed carefully, swinging her legs gently so she wouldn't wake Lincoln. She tiptoed to the other side of the bed where Lincoln faced and she watched him intently. He had his mouth open and was snoring softly. She took the clothes that were thrown from the night before and quickly threw them on over her undergarments. She had to leave. She hated to do this to Lincoln again, but she just couldn't risk losing her people.

She reached down to his sleeping body and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you," she said quietly.

Octavia walked to the door, watching him one last time. She wasn't even sure if she meant what she said but it made no difference. She had to leave quickly if she wanted to make it back to the cave by dark. She knew Lincoln would go after her and frankly, she didn't care. What mattered to her were her brother and her friends.

She sneaked through the house, careful not to run into anything as she searched for some sort of weapon to potentially defend herself with. She opened a closet they had near the dining hall and found a handheld with a belt full of ammo for it. That would work.

Octavia rushed outside and found the horse tied up to the fence near the entrance of the orchard. She untied it quickly and hoisted herself onto it. She stroked it first, in some sort of attempt to gain its trust and then pulled on the reins.

She was determined.


	7. The Wishing Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some new dynamics are established between the group as they plan to find answers and the ones they still hold onto.

"What happened? Where's Octavia?! What's going on?!" It was reasonable to say Jasper had awakened rather roughly. He was drenched in sweat and nearly gave the two guests there with him heart attacks.

"Hey, how you feeling?" Bellamy put a hand on Jasper's shoulder, not even having to lift him up from the cold and unwelcoming rock. The curly-haired brunette boy had calmed down quite a bit with Oskar's help.

"Was it the Grounders?" Oskar asked quickly, slightly ready for a fight. He wouldn't back away from a tussle.

Jasper closed his eyes and sighed, putting a hand on his forehead as if he remembered something suddenly.

"No, I—," he stuttered, "where's Octavia? She was right here with me!" He looked at Bellamy fearfully and backed away slightly.

Bellamy stuck out his hand to shush him. "It's alright, just tell me what happened first."

"She was right here with me, I swear," he suddenly looked around the cave and then back at Bellamy, "I wasn't here though, I can tell you that. We were by the gate, Harper, Octavia, and I. Something hit me on the back of the head and I found myself outside the gate on the ground. Then there was the boom and the smoke and I—I lost her. I'm so sorry, Bellamy."

Bellamy's gaze intensified and his jaw clenched slightly. "She's…alive, right?" He couldn't do this, not now.

Jasper looked down and his face dropped. "I don't know," he said honestly. "God, I swore I would protect her and I failed. I don't even know how I ended up down here. Did you drag me down here?"

Oskar suddenly began to get up from the rock and began to walk further down the cave with his light. Something caught his eye and his absence went unnoticed by the other two.

"No, you were by the entrance. I found some of the others."

"Oh, thank God. Monty's with you, right? And Clarke?"

Bellamy shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We didn't wake up but an hour ago so no one knows what the hell is going on around here." He tossed a small rock modestly out of frustration.

"Oh." Jasper's face dropped again. "I guess we should start looking. Who else is with you exactly?"

"It's Spacewalker, Jones, Lauren, Raven, and I. We all found each other separately," he said.

"Raven? She's okay?"

"Appears that way. I don't know how, but I think Clarke did a better job than we gave her credit for."

Jasper made a slight chuckle, relieved to see that his friends were okay.

"Where are they?" he asked.

Bellamy scratched the back of his neck. "We ran into a little trouble while I was in the middle of coming down to get you, so I told them to go on if I don't find a way back. It's a thirty foot drop, at least, so I wasn't going to risk climbing back up if you were injured or not."

Jasper smiled and rubbed the back of his head. It was slightly bruised. "Just a scratch."

The drips of water through the cave walls were the only solace aside from the occasional humming of the darkness that surrounded them. Oskar's absence still remained unnoticed.

"What are we gonna do?" Jasper whispered. It was more so rhetorical than an actual question.

"Find them," Bellamy said sternly. "There has to be a way out of here and when there is, we're going to find O and we're going to all make it okay. We'll live."

"Besides," he added. He began to retie the boots he had taken off earlier. "Raven could be able to fix the radios."

"They got—busted?" Jasper rolled his eyes. "Great and I thought I was the only one who lost mine."

"The Grounders could've taken them after the smoke and explosion."

"True, but—"

There were interrupted by a sudden voice. "Guys! Come down here! I found something!" Oskar was shouting from the other end of the tunnel, apparently closer than assumed.

Bellamy and Jasper got up and slowly made their way to the curving slope of the new tunnel.

"Oskar! It's too dark! Do you have the light?" Bellamy called. His voice traveled down for several more seconds before receiving a delayed response. Oskar was farther than they realized.

"Yeah," the blond boy called out finally. "If you see it just let me know!"

Jasper looked at Bellamy and frowned. "He took my light?" he mumbled.

Bellamy ignored him and bent over slightly in an attempt to see as far as he could through the undeniable darkness the tunnel offered. He placed his hand on the cool, rocky wall to balance his tall frame from hitting the ceiling.

"Why can't you just bring it here?" Bellamy yelled. Jasper took a few steps nearer and rubbed his head once a portion of the ceiling scraped it slightly.

"It's easier to crouch; the ceiling's lower than we think." Bellamy took Jasper's arm and pulled him closer as he saw the dim circle of white light begin to approach them from farther down the tunnel.

Oskar appeared before them, his face was slightly brown from the dust and dirt that fell from the low ceiling of the tunnel. He took a long stride past them and back to the large, flat rock where more light could be found from the hole above.

The blond teen took a minute to catch his breath and turned around to face them. In his hand was a dirty, small sword that looked like it hadn't been used recently. "I found this. I think there's another way out of there but it's just too dark for all of us to see with just this light."

Bellamy had his mouth slightly open trying to register things. He then unintentionally shoved Jasper to the side and quickly approached the sword Oskar held in his hands. He held it, observing it in the dim light.

"It's Octavia's," he said with eyes wide. "We need to find something to make a fire with. _Now_. And then we—"

There was a loud commotion coming to the left of them. It was emitted from the direction all of them had once come in from. Jasper took a few confused steps closer in the direction, leaning slightly to the side in an attempt to see. There were voices heard and Jasper's face suddenly lit up.

"It's the others!" He exclaimed. "Hey!" Jasper took off running in that direction, his backpack was making a ton of racket as it swayed and jingled around.

Oskar and Bellamy looked at each other. There went Jasper again, going into a new possible scenario of getting himself killed. So, they went after him. He was being naïve again to think just because there were voices that it couldn't be someone else—particularly Grounders.

The cave was getting lighter as the group made their way back to the entrance. The bright light that was trapped in the overcast sky was highlighting the aspects of the gray wall. Jasper, for once, was correct in assuming that his friends were at the end of it. Bellamy liked to believe he just got lucky again.

Raven was the first to be seen, slightly surprised as Jasper gave her a tight squeeze. "Nice to see you too, goggles. Now, if you could please _not_ break me, that'd be great."

Jasper pulled away with a huge smile. "Sorry." His eyes were beginning to water.

Jones and Lauren were seen propelling down next. They had gone against Bellamy's wishes and found something else to make a rope with so they could come down and get him. Jasper went to go give the other two bear hugs while Bellamy approached Raven, slightly annoyed.

Oskar had cut off Bellamy and ran up to one of his good friends. They got along good back at camp when Raven arrived, as Bellamy and she had treated him like a younger brother. Clarke had seen him more as a liability; a little kid who needed protection rather than being treated like someone who could possibly be an asset.

She gave him a fist pump. "Hey, buddy. Long time no see."

"I'm glad to see you're able to walk," he smiled. "But if you aren't feeling okay then let the others know."

Raven laughed. "I'll be fine. I've actually never felt better…surprisingly."

Bellamy interrupted her with arms crossed and a clearing of the throat. He looked at the bloody rags wrapped tightly on her hands. "What happened up there?"

"Rope stripped," she looked down at her hands and clenched them slightly. "Doesn't matter. I did what I had to do to get you to Jasper. I'll live."

"That reminds me," Bellamy directed his attention down at Oskar. "What the hell were you doing outside the wall anyway? You're lucky they didn't get you!"

"Bellamy, I was going after Harper. I saw her screaming and that's when the smoke came."

"I specifically gave you orders to stay with Miller as a runner and lookout. You could've gotten yourself killed."

"Hey," Raven said. "Knock it off, he's alive now and that's all that matters."

Oskar stood up to him, suddenly looking taller and more mature. "If I didn't go after her then there was no way I would be led down here, now is there?"

Bellamy and Oskar had a stare down, both crossing their arms. Raven shook her head and sighed. She felt like the only one who could've been reasonable lately and yet no one would listen to her.

Bellamy sighed and looked back at Raven. "Any luck with the radios?"

"Screw it," she pouted. "We took them back to the drop ship and literally nothing there could put them back together. They're done for. We're gonna just have to keep looking and rebuild the camp from scratch or something in the meantime."

"No," he said. "I found O's sword. Actually, Oskar found it. This cave is deeper than we think and if we could find a way to make torches then we can go after her."

"Not so fast." Finn was seen hopping down last from the rocky wall. He was doing better than expected in terms of walking after having his knee impaled and such. Then again, he healed quickly.

He walked towards them, holding a perfectly intact radio in the air. "Listen."

There was silence, and then a reluctant look from Bellamy. His doubt was soon replaced with interest once there was a small static noise coming from the other end.

' _G..Gage? Eh, we have…time…t..g o …go get the prisoners...re...por...f...duty.'_

_Kkcckk._

'… _What are their names?'_

' _Prisoners 260, 263, and 251. C…Griffin…..A. Miller and M. Green. They're needed in…'_

_Static._

Finn turned the radio off. It was all they needed to hear.

Everyone stood perfectly still where they were. No one had any words to say.

Several moments passed before Bellamy spoke up. "That doesn't change anything! I have to find my sister!"

"Woah, hold up," Finn said. "So you're saying you're going to completely disregard the fact the Grounders have our friends just to go find that your sister most likely isn't going to be where you think she is?"

"Excuse me?" Bellamy's tone was spurring. "What suddenly gives you the right to talk like that? And since when did you suddenly become so ballsy?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Finn sighed. "I'm saying if we come up with a plan—"

Bellamy got in Finn's face suddenly, looking dangerously into his eyes. He fought the urge to punch him.

"It's because of Clarke, isn't it?" Bellamy spat out at Finn much angrier than he meant to. He could feel his heart burning and his face heating up.

Finn's mouth opened slightly and his face turned to shock. He didn't know that anyone could suspect anything of his feelings for her.

"Whatever," Finn waved out a hand, now irritated. "Since you obviously know what I'm thinking—" He shoved the radio into Bellamy's chest and walked to a corner attempting to calm himself down. Several tense seconds passed by.

"This is almost ridiculous!" Raven yelled. "I've about had it with you two not being able to work things out." A flash of anger passed her face as she was reminded of her past with Finn. She quickly shrugged it off.

She turned to Bellamy and poked him in the chest. "As for you, you're being an arrogant asshole. Let him get a breath in and then we'll talk about your sister," she glared at him as her voice was low and dangerous.

"Oh ho ho," Bellamy smirked. His tone rose slightly. " _I'm_ the arrogant asshole? Spacewalker wants to get us all killed thinking we can just waltz right into Mount Weather and everything suddenly becomes better?"

He turned to everyone else as if to make an announcement and stood up tall. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'd like to live to see another day. After that, then we can worry about the others. My sister is out there and we're going to find her whether you like it or not!"

Finn turned around to face him. "Like that's a better idea? Listen to yourself, Bellamy. You're willing that we go down the tunnels, in the dark, hoping to find Octavia at the end of it? And what if she's not there and something else is waiting for us? Come on, I think we've had enough surprises to last us a lifetime."

Bellamy scoffed and threw back his head in a tilt. "Anyone else here thinks he's crazy?"

Bellamy was met with silence from the others, retreating back in embarrassment and disappointment. Everyone stared at Bellamy like he was the crazy one.

"Finn's right," Jones suddenly said. "We don't know what's down there. I don't know about you but I don't want to take my chances."

"That's my _sister_ ," Bellamy enunciated.

Jones sighed. "And, that's great. She could even be with that Grounder friend of ours. If she is, I'd make a bet that she's safer with him than with us."

Bellamy scoffed. He was getting offended and defensive.

"You're not being reasonable," Oskar frowned. "Just make a decision already. I wanna get going."

Raven kept her voice low as she got close to Bellamy. "It's us against you. We'll come back for Octavia after we get something figured out."

"It's Octavia, or, it's Clarke, Miller, and Monty," Finn said. "Make your choice. Her or our friends."

Bellamy crossed his arms and pouted. He couldn't believe how irritating they were being. It was fine and all that they cared about the others, but after finding a sign that could lead him to the girl he swore he'd protect, their way would just have to wait.

"I can't believe how idiotic you're being! I have someone I care about too!" Bellamy yelled.

Finn began to walk over to him. "Okay, let's make a deal," he said. "We go down there, torches and all. And if we don't find anything about your sister, we're leaving to find some other survivors to help us go to Mount Weather."

"But—"

"—No buts," he shook his head. "Do we have a deal?"

Bellamy kept the angry expression that seemed stitched to his face at times. His arms were still crossed tightly and he looked at each of them observantly.

"Deal," he said curtly. "We go down there, and if she's not there, we'll find the others, make a damn plan," he repeated bitterly.

"We're not strong enough as it is, Bellamy," Jones said. "It's just smart to go get help."

The words weren't needed as they met deaf ears anyway. Bellamy continued to glare at Finn in an attempt to get him to crack. For the most part, it was working and Bellamy wanted to make sure dominance was established.

"What are we going to do about supplies?" It was Lauren who spoke up this time. Everyone looked at each other. "Start from scratch?" she said. "We made that camp with the sweat off our back. We can't just leave it behind. We still have the drop ship as shelter and we still need to figure out what to do about food and water."

"There's nothing back there," Raven said. She looked at the ground and sighed. "Besides…I-I…can't. I got an extremely uneasy feeling by being there. It's best we stay clear of the camp for now. We can find another checkpoint."

"For now we keep moving," Finn added.

The tension between the group intensified and nothing was said for a while. Lauren had reluctantly given up some medical gauze and cloths in her bag as fuel for the fire to burn on. Leaves and twigs had dusted the corners of the floor from the trees that fell above the steep drop of the ravine. Bellamy stood around, watching them as he became impatient at their lack of success when trying to start a fire. He was pissed because he accused them that it wasn't a democracy anymore. Not like it mattered. He was being forced to swallow his pride and listen to someone that wasn't him for once. Octavia…or Clarke. Why did they ask him who he would save first if they already knew he wouldn't get his way?

Eventually, they were successful in making torches and ventured further into the cave through the way Oskar had discovered. They allowed the boy to lead them for the time being with Bellamy close behind. Before they began their journey, Bellamy took his sister's sword and reluctantly set it down on the flat rock. He left it behind for someone else to use. It wasn't needed anymore.

The ceiling of the tunnel was easier to see with the help of the torches. It was bumpy and filled with little crevices of dirt from the earthen floor above. The infamous humming noise through the narrow walls had returned, leaving the group feeling a little uneasy. The claustrophobic tunnels seemed to last forever and they weren't sure if the darkness ahead of them would ever turn into light. By this point no one could crouch side by side and they had to walk in a line, Oskar in front and Jones in back.

They were finally met by a huge semicircle of light and could finally stretch their backs without having to worry about hitting their heads. The mouth of the cave had officially started there. It almost looked fake-like; as the walls and arch of the mouth was perfectly molded in a silver rock. There was a campfire in the center with sticks and black specks of ash strewn around it.

Bellamy approached it and bent down, picking up a small piece of paper that had been half-burnt. Finn hobbled over and crouched down. He put his hand nimbly on one of the sticks near the center.

"Still warm." He quickly took his hand away from burning. "Whoever was here had left not too long ago."

Bellamy tried to make out what the picture was of. Then he saw it. It was a drawing of O that he had seen whilst flipping through a book of Lincoln's.

He shot up suddenly. "Lincoln was here..."

"Let's check outside and see if we could find more clues."

The group headed outside, each looking around in a different direction. They searched high and low, hoping to find something in the world around them that would point them in the direction of the little rebel's whereabouts.

Finn was seen crouching again, this time by a nearby tree. He placed his hand on the ground and nodded. "Someone was laying here. It's still warm."

"Do you think…?" Bellamy breathed. "A dead body?"

"There's no blood, no signs of struggle." He looked up at the clear sky. It was now near five o'clock. "And no signs of footprints because there hasn't been rain in a couple days."

"That doesn't mean that whoever could've been here wasn't stabbed from the front, or shot, or—"

Raven came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. You're getting yourself worked up over nothing. We can't prove that whoever was here was Octavia."

Bellamy stayed silent. "We'll find her," Raven said gently.

"So, again, what are we gonna do about food and somewhere to stay?" Lauren asked. It was safe to say everyone's stomach was growling.

"I vote we stay here for the night," Jones raised his hand as proof.

"You forget we made a bet," Finn said, leaning on the tree as he struggled to get up. "We promised Bellamy we'd go down the cave. Octavia isn't here so, now we go and try to find the others. Besides, it's still early. We can last several more hours before it gets dark."

This was true, as the nights now seemed to become longer due to an approaching summer solstice.

"Raven?" Bellamy drawled, looking to her as a second opinion.

"Yeah. Just listen to him." She was weary of bickering.

Jones sighed. "Alright. But if I keel over from starvation, I'm blaming it on you guys."

The group continued north of the cave, the ground became sloped and steeper to walk on. The trees even became denser and the retreating daylight seemed to be even more repressed in the path they were headed. Jones and Lauren had offered Finn a helping hand again when they saw it was becoming harder to put pressure on his knee. Oskar had stayed in front with Bellamy leading. He decided that staying quiet was his best bet. There wasn't much he could do in terms of offering his excellent people skills. Words just wouldn't work at that time.

Wind began blowing through everyone's hair. It didn't really seem possible, only surreal, due to the thick covering of trees encompassing them. It was made possible from the elevation. Whether they wanted to believe it or not, they were getting closer to Mount Weather.

The thick stalks of oak trees suddenly turned into thin stalks of pine trees. They hadn't walked but half a mile. There was a clearing that could be made out and a mysterious structure before them. The group walked several more feet before reaching it. Their boots were becoming scuffed as they scraped along wood chips on the ground. The structure was soon clearer into view and was discovered to be an old and dilapidated well. It was in the middle of a circular clearing of trees and its stone base was covered well with vines, mold, and cracks. The wood roof was splintered and worn and was now the color of a deep maroon, hinting it had once been a vibrant red or purple. Leaves were blown in the nearby air around it, birds chirped and perched themselves on slits near the crank of it, creating a serene atmosphere. Bellamy had found himself approaching it, peering to the bottom of the well out of instinct. The wood bucket had fell long ago and sat at the dry floor of the well in pieces. Any rope was down with the broken bucket and the crank to lever it up and down was rusted in its place.

Bellamy's train of wonder came to a halt once he heard half of the group in the distance. He stood up straight and walked around the well to see another clearing nearby. Raven, Oskar, and Jones were about forty feet away checking out a truck.

Lauren walked over slowly, still supporting Finn with her arm. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Bellamy looked back at her and then back at the truck. "Yeah," he said passively. "It is." His mind wasn't registering that she meant the leaves blowing around the old well and how nature seemed lively.

"It makes me slightly uneasy," she chilled and then shook it off. "This could be a meeting spot."

"Really?"

"Yeah. This isn't too far from the cave and if we run into anyone else, they can meet us here."

Bellamy stood where he was, back still facing Lauren and Finn. He pondered that for a moment and was about to retaliate before Raven came marching up to him.

"Hey," Raven breathed. She had a smile on her face. "The truck seems to be working. It's actually kind of incredible."

Bellamy raised an eyebrow in amusement. He looked past her and watched as Oskar and Jones were climbing and exploring the truck like children. "I see."

"If it's still working, then isn't that a potential warning sign?" Finn asked.

Raven looked back at it. "It's still cold. Why would Grounders use a truck anyway?"

"Good point," Bellamy said. "Oh and Lauren suggests we use the wishing well here as a so-called 'meeting spot'. Can you agree?"

Raven smiled at Lauren. "Not bad, Kane."

Lauren flinched slightly at the sound of her last name.

"Well, I guess you're right," Finn said, looking in the distance. "Grounders used horses from my experience."

"Come on, let's go check it out," Raven said, turning around to walk. She motioned her hand to come.

"No," Bellamy said. His feet were planted firmly in the ground. "They can't keep jumping around the vehicle like kids. We need to keep moving if we want to try and find anyone or anything before dark. We still need to eat, find water—"

Raven interrupted him by grabbing his arm. "God, you're no fun." She proceeded by forcefully dragging him over to the truck.

Bellamy sighed. He cringed slightly as he heard the laughs of Oskar and Jones still playing on the truck. Lauren and Finn made their way slowly behind.

The truck was a lot bigger up close. It was a good foot taller than a regular pickup truck from the 21st Century, at least. It looked more militaristic than a farmer's truck or anything else. It seemed fitting if they were close to Mount Weather like it seemed to suggest. The tarp in the back of it was tied down by bungee cables hooked on either side. The bed of the truck was low to the ground and the tarp covering it seemed to be large enough for transportation. The edge of the tarp was flipped back by Raven, revealing the deep-set space it hid.

"Okay, so it's an old truck," Bellamy shrugged. "How does this help us?"

"It _runs_." Raven still had a grip on his arm as she looked at him with an awe-struck grin. She was back to her old ways of mechanics…this time with automobiles.

"I thought we weren't going to draw attention to ourselves," he snapped. He yanked his arm free from her grasp.

Raven shrugged. "I don't see why we can't just take the time to see how cool it is."

Oskar's head peeked out from the driver's window. "There's a key in the ignition!" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Oskar, get out from there," Bellamy snapped. He clicked his fingers to motion him to exit. The blond boy did as he was told and climbed out rather than opened the door.

Jones began to take the carbine off that had been attached to his back. He threw it over his neck. He sighed in relief once the heavy gun was off. "Come on, we could take a load off." He began to sit on the edge of the bed.

There were sudden gunshots in the distance.

Everyone was frozen in their place, looking around in a quiet panic. The birds had long retreated, the wind had died down, and there was nothing but silence. The calm before the storm.

" _What_ did I tell you?" Bellamy whispered pretentiously. "Nothing good comes from waiting around."

" _Shh_!" Raven scolded. Everyone was still again. Jones had held the gun in his hands, covering the handle with sweaty palms.

There were voices heard, too far away to make out what they said. Everyone remained frozen except for Raven.

"We need to go," Bellamy said desperately. His voice was still whisper-low.

"No!" She quickly went around to the bed of the truck. Everyone seemed to follow cautiously. "We can hide in here. It looks like whomever person's truck this is, that they don't use the bed."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Bellamy whispered furiously.

"Do you really wanna chance leaving right now?"

The voices could be made out a little more distinctly. No one appeared in view.

"This could lead us to the others! Clarke, Monty, and them!" Raven whispered. Her eyes pleading.

Bellamy smacked his forehead. "And are you sure?"

' _That was a stubborn deer!'_

Raven looked into Bellamy's eyes frantically. "No, I…I'm not. But I have a better feeling about this than if we run."

Jones began to creep closer to Raven, now re-equipping the gun onto his back. "I agree with her. Let's hide."

Oskar was near the front of the truck, crouched down like everyone else but could still see the head of a figure approaching down a path and up the hill in the distance. He was still a good fifty yards away, but Oskar's eyes were sharp—it was a Grounder mask. His deep blue eyes widened and he swiftly darted to the back.

"Guys, it's a Grounder, we need to go _now_!"

Raven lifted the tarp up more as Oskar hurried inside. He was able to safely lay down in the front corner without appearing as a visible bump from the top of the tarp.

"Sorry, Bellamy. I'm not risking it," Jones grumbled. He went in after Oskar and was also able to hide well. The bed was deep and covered with the thick tarp in a way that it was too dark to see down inside unless you removed the whole thing.

Raven pursed her lips in a slightly haughty manner at Bellamy. Finn was led in next, careful not to hurt his right knee any more than it already was. Lauren quickly climbed in after.

"Do you have a better idea?" Raven narrowed her eyes at Bellamy.

He was frozen. His mind was racing. The two of them could now hear the Grounder coming up the hill, laughing about something with a second company.

' _Octavia…or Clarke.'_

Another step closer.

' _Damnit. Why do I have to choose?'_

Step.

' _Why is this happening? They're going to kill us if they find us.'_

Step.

' _Princess….you better give me some recognition of thanks for saving your ass.'_

In the tarp he went. Raven sighed and went after him, closing the tarp just in time as she was the last one inside and tucked the bottom of it in like they had found it. They all laid there in the darkness, their hearts pounding as they heard the voices of the Grounders.

Everyone's hearts stopped as there was suddenly no sound, no footsteps. First the Grounders voices were crisp and clear by the truck and now they were silent. There was a sudden grunt and an argument as what to do about their recent catch of dinner. One had suggested placing the deer carcass under the tarp. Everyone squirmed tighter together once this suggestion was heard. They were quickly overcome with relief once the other Grounder grunted, got his way, and tied the deer on the roof of the car rather than the back.

The car doors were heard opening and then closing again. There was silence for a few more moments. Then, everyone's eyes widened in fear.

And just like that, Bellamy figuratively threw his change down the wishing well. It was a bet made that no matter what was going to happen, there was no turning back. He chanced everything going to save Clarke. Now they needed luck. A lot of it.

As if fate had already read their minds, the ignition started and the truck began to drive off.


	8. Bonafide

Clarke was outside in the heavily guarded courtyard of Mount Weather. Just hours before they had given her even more vague instructions for upkeep and maintenance of the facility. She watched them as they stood on ledges above the courtyard, watching intently while she worked. They wore masks to hide their faces, dark suits, and carried rifles she wasn't familiar with. She even saw a few Grounders. The men in the dark and green stealth suits that were tightly wrapped up were not Grounders, she knew that. She wondered about a lot of things and knew it was best to keep her mouth shut about it for a while.

With the way they crowded in and patrolled, she figured it was best just to do her own work. They had her carving long spears out of a sturdy wood and then doing other grounds keeping. But, the courtyard resembled more of a prison than something pleasant. There were few water breaks and they only gave her bread to eat. She began to reminisce about her time in the Skybox. She worried about her mother, the others, even Kane. No one deserved this; to be in a prison again, to be treated like a dog.

" _No! Please!"_

Clarke's thoughts came to a halt. She was almost afraid to take her eyes off of the work she was doing but she couldn't help herself and looked in the direction of the desperate plea.

It was an elderly man with balding white hair and wrinkly white skin. He looked frail, like he shouldn't have even been out in the warming June sun long. He was in an orange prison suit and had his hands wrapped around in chains that were connected around his waist. The man was on his knees with two Grounders ready to swing their heavy mallet at him. Clarke's eyes widened at this point, unable to look away.

" _Please," the man sobbed. "I didn't mean to slack off…I was only thirsty! Please!"_

The powerful Grounder grunted in reply, more than ready to beat him to death. He was quickly stopped by the Grounder he had arrived with and his mallet was replaced with a long leather whip. The men on the ledges above looked down at the less civilized Grounders with disinterest. They were only there to do their own job.

Clarke wanted to scream for them to stop, she wanted to look away. All she did was cry as soon as they hooked him up to an old post in the courtyard and began to whip him over and over. She was alone working her shift in the courtyard and looked up at the guards above her only for them to stare back in reply. She wanted someone to make them stop, to make them do something.

She made a sudden gasp when she felt someone behind her yank her back by the shoulders. Her chains clanked loudly as she felt tears leaving her eyes.

"You're coming with me." It was one of the stealth guards. He was harsh when he pulled her back inside.

"No, please!" She cried. "I didn't do anything!"

She didn't mean to sound so helpless but she was scared out of her mind. These were dangerous, cruel, evil people. She had never been more scared for her life.

"Exactly," the guard replied gruffly.

He was taking her to a room that looked like a bright interrogation chamber. The room had windows from the outside and revealed a horrifying blade of some sort used for torture. She felt her heart hitch in her throat. It just couldn't happen. Before he looked as if he was going to throw her into the room, they were both interrupted by a voice.

" _I'll take it from here."_

It was a girl about a year or two younger than Clarke. She was easily recognized to be a Grounder; she had colorful feathers and beads in her dark blonde hair with a piece of lavender tucked beneath her ear. White tribal tattoos outlined her face and neck as she wore a long, sleeveless dress made out of leather and black leggings. By her dark, cloth boots were strips of leather that held a dagger just above her shin. Despite this, she still didn't seem threatening.

"Oh my god," the man rolled his eyes. "You're playing leader now? That's cute."

The girl's deep blue eyes looked at him searchingly. "No…but my dad wants her working in the barn."

Clarke had so many questions racing through her mind but she remained frozen.

The man gave her an incredulous look but she stood her ground. He took a ring of keys out of his belt loop and unhooked Clarke's chains.

"You're lucky your father is who he is." He reluctantly let go of his piercing grip on Clarke and shoved her towards the girl before leaving down the long hallway.

"Who…?" Clarke began.

The girl put a finger to her lips and a small smile. She grabbed the blonde's wrist and led her down the opposite hallway. She looked all around before unlocking a small room and led both of them inside.

"Why did you save me?" Clarke asked quietly.

The girl smiled again. "Because they won't let me tell a lot of prisoners stuff, but I just want to relieve your worries. They won't hurt you here with me around."

Clarke nodded slightly and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "So what's going on?"

"I can't tell you," she sighed. "But I don't like what both of them are doing. But I'm still only 16, so I can't stop it…but…I trust you. Ok? So all I can tell you is that your friend Miller begged for you to work in the barn. It's one of the safest jobs here."

Clarke shook her head slightly. Miller? That only meant…

"Miller?" she said. "How many of my people are here?"

"Too many," the girl said quietly. "But you're supposed to be separated until further notice."

"Why are you helping me? You're a Grounder. We're supposed to be enemies."

The girl rolled her eyes. "That's Anya's doing, not mine. People like Lincoln and I…we want to help. And besides, I'm not fully related to the Grounders. I'm much more civilized than that."

Clarke had so many more questions. "T-Thank you." She wasn't sure what to say.

The girl led her out of the room and shut the door. "Don't tell anyone," she whispered. "Besides, I like you. And between us, your friend Monty is pretty sweet."

The girl's cheeks were a dusted pink before she shook her head and smiled at Clarke. She began to walk away before stopping again. "Oh, and Griffin? Call me Iris."

Clarke stood there still trying to process everything as she watched the girl named Iris walk down the hallway. Once again, the blond became startled and turned around to see someone waiting for her.

It was Monty. "Hey, it's just me." He had chains on his hands as well.

"Monty," Clarke breathed. "What's going on?"

"Iris talk to you?" Monty asked, looking around nervously. Clarke nodded.

"She told me as much as I assume she told you. But," he smiled lightly. "We are working in the barn together from now on. Until the sun goes down."

"Wait," she stopped him before he could head out. "You look like you know something."

Monty's face contorted into one of slight confusion before being dropped and then sighed. "You're going to hate me if I tell you…"

"Tell me," she urged.

"He…" he hesitated and looked down. "They…killed him, Clarke. Bellamy is dead."

Clarke stood there shocked. No, it couldn't happen. It wasn't possible that he could be dead. But it was. He was dead. A fresh and worthless human body to the employees at Mount Weather. She figured they found his body lying, burning, rotting, by a pit somewhere outside. Bellamy was just a number. Just like everyone else…

> ~()~()~()~

The truck eventually came to an abrupt halt. The ride was much smoother than they had anticipated. The Grounders were able to lead their tires onto _actual_ gravel and _actual_ road. At first, news like this seemed exciting. But it was unknown road leading them into Grounder territory and it was frightening to think they could've made a gross error in judgment. Luckily, they were closer to their friends than they'd ever be.

The truck doors opened once the ignition was confirmed to be off. The two Grounders shook the truck a bit as they brought the freshly dead deer from the roof of it. There was a creak and then a snap as the rope was thrown to the hard ground carelessly. The two Grounders laughed and began to walk off in the distance, talking about how delicious their new plump choice of dinner would be.

Raven was nearest to the edge of the tarp and slowly and carefully lifted it up to peer outside. Her breath deepened in her lungs as she took a hesitant look around. They were nowhere near the well anymore. She lifted the tarp up a little more when she knew the coast was clear and hopped out onto the gravel.

She turned around and looked at something near the side of the truck in shock. "Oh…my…god…"

"What is it?" Jones asked. He was fearless in hopping out of the bed of the truck next. He grunted a little as he stretched the stiff joints in his body and then his eyes caught a shocking glimpse of what Raven had seen.

Jasper had been silently following the others for the past hour or two and decided to climb out of the truck next.

"Um?" He said, looking at the bed of the truck nervously before motioning the others to come outside. "We have a situation."

Bellamy groaned lightly and hopped onto the gravel with Finn and Lauren behind them. He took a stride around the side of the truck where everyone stood in awe and rolled his eyes at how odd they were being. That is, until he saw it too.

' _ **Mount Weather Gate A: Straight Ahead'**_

"Shit," Finn breathed.

"Well, Spacewalker," Bellamy crossed his arms with a little smirk. "That little radio of yours must be magical, because here we are. Wouldn't you know it? Would you like to use it to phone in your Grounder buddies?"

"I gave it to you. What did you do with it?"

Bellamy lifted the back of his tattered shirt a little to reveal the radio perched in his belt loop. The light for it was turned off.

"I think…we found the others." Raven's sudden statement had directed their attention to a small area in the distance. The area was sitting quite a ways down a steep drop, nearer to the base of the camp. From where the group was located, they had a lucky view of seeing the prisoners below without being spotted.

Bellamy crept a little closer, his heart jumped as he saw a female figure with wavy blonde hair. Her back was facing their view and she was being yelled at by a Grounder patrolling the area. He didn't want it to be her. It just couldn't be her.

"Clarke," he breathed under his breath. The Grounder had grabbed the blond, turning her face in the direction of the group's view. It wasn't her, but it was a woman who looked to be in her thirties.

Bellamy didn't think he could have been more relieved to know it wasn't her. No one noticed but him, anyway. He shook it off and then headed back towards the truck. He patted down on the tarp and looked dead at Finn and Lauren.

"Alright," he announced determinedly. "Lauren, you take Finn back to the wishing well. We'll find a way to sneak in."

Before Lauren could even protest, he interrupted her. "Finn's knee will slow us down. Take the truck."

"Are you out of your damn mind?!" Jones screamed right along with just about everyone else.

"You said we were going to rescue the others, let's go," Bellamy growled.

Jasper held onto his arm suddenly. "Yeah, but not like this. We're incredibly outnumbered, outgunned, you know that. I want to see Monty again…as much as I know you want to see Clarke, but that's just insane. I know you're being serious but please don't do this."

Raven came over with hands on her hips. "It's 'cause he just saw someone who looked like Blondie. Got him riled up. Come on, big guy, let's have some common sense here and just go back."

Bellamy could feel himself flinch slightly at the mention of her name, and what the Grounders could possibly be doing to her.

"They have her, I know they do!" Bellamy said. "And besides, do you have a way to teleport back? Because I'm pretty sure no one knows how the hell we got this far."

"Just follow the road back," Jasper shrugged and pointed down a long and winding dirt road in the distance.

"We'd be lucky to make it somewhat close to the well by nighttime, who the hell knows what'll be out there. We're here now, let's make a plan and find a way to sneak in."

"I'm here," Oskar said happily. "I could probably find a vent or something to get into."

Bellamy motioned his hand at Oskar in a 'told you so' fashion due to the kid's small stature and exploring advantage.

Lauren sighed and walked over to Oskar. She knew arguing with Bellamy would get her nowhere. "Here, take this then if you're going." She reached into her bag and pulled out an automatic for Oskar to use.

He smiled gratefully and attached it in the side of his jeans.

"Who all is going exactly?" Raven raised a brow, defeated in her attempts at common sense.

"Me, you, Oskar, and Jones," Bellamy replied. "Less people, equal number of guns."

"Why can't I come?" Jasper asked.

He sighed. "We—almost lost you twice within a forty-eight hour time frame. We can't afford it again. You're headed back to the well with Lauren and Finn. If we don't make it back by tomorrow…then go back to the cave."

Jasper took a deep sigh and then nodded reluctantly. They came all this way. It was as if the truck ride was destined for them to arrive there. Jasper suddenly gave Bellamy a deep hug.

"Bring Monty and Clarke back, at least."

Bellamy gave him a pat on the back before breaking the hug. "Will do."

"I'll try to bring back as many as I can," Bellamy said to everyone.

Finn suddenly let go of his grip on Lauren's arm for support and limped over to Bellamy. "If you can't save everyone…because let's face it, with how outnumbered we are and how last minute this is, you won't. Then, please bring back Monty and Clarke."

Bellamy nodded. Before turning down the path that led to Gate A, Finn gave him a knife for an emergency.

"So," Jones said with arms crossed leaning against a tree. "What's the grand plan? Sneak in? Hope we just miraculously stumble across Monty and Clarke? Because we won't. And you don't think we won't stumble upon a couple hundred Grounders, maybe?"

"That's not what I'm saying, Jones. I know what we're up against."

"Clarke…" Jones said but then stopped.

"What about her? What were you going to say?" Bellamy gritted his teeth. He could sense it was something he didn't want to hear.

"Nothing," Jones said, standing his ground. "I didn't say nothin'. Now, let's go save the princess, your highness." He made a mock bow and sneered.

Bellamy would've slammed him harder against the tree, punched him a few times, and gave him an extremely pissed off warning…but he didn't. He was learning to control his anger recently and sometimes it frightened him. Clarke had infiltrated his emotions and thoughts in ways far exceeding what he was comfortable with.

Oskar had slipped everyone's vision again and was seen by the dip where they could see part of the prison.

"Hey, guys check this out," the blond motioned. "There are some tunnels on the side of the building. If Clarke and Monty are held captive, we could probably find a way to reach them through there. Especially if that's the prison ward we're looking at."

Everyone nodded. "Let's do this."

> **::~)(~)(~)(~)(~)(~::**

" _Shit, shit, shit!"_ Jones cursed repeatedly. Bellamy and he watched in horror as Oskar was running as fast as his legs could carry away from the frightening guards who were shooting and Grounders who shot arrows.

"What do we do?!" Jones whispered furiously, as they were hiding behind a crate. It was a terrible idea that had escalated quickly. By then, the alarms were sounding and red lights blazed in their spots on the wall.

Bellamy looked frantically for a way to get out, for one last chance. His eyes were fixed on a sign that said **"** _ **Quarantine Ward**_ **"** and a light bulb had been lit. He nudged Jones in the side as he was freaking out.

"What about Raven? She's out there alone!" Jones pleaded.

"Jones shut the hell up!" Bellamy whispered. He pointed at the sign. His instinct was dragging him there. "Go find Raven and get the hell out of here! Oskar will make it out alright. I'm going to get Clarke and Monty!"

"On your own!?"

"I have to," he enunciated, looking Jones dead in the eye. "Do what I ask!" He ordered and Jones left without another word once the hallway was clear of running guards.

' _Princess, Princess, Princess…'_ He found his mind becoming obsessed and hell-bent.

He looked both ways after sticking his head out from the crate and darted straight down the hallway under the sign. He ran up the stairs and sneaked as quickly as he could, finding rooms on either side with small circular ports for windows. He looked in each room, his heart beating to the rhythm of the alarms blaring.

As he began to stand up straight, looking a little slower and more meticulously, he heard a loud grunt behind him and turned around to see a Grounder lifting an axe straight in the air before bringing it down on Bellamy. He dodged out of the way just in time before having to dodge another swing. The Grounder must've been two hundred and some pounds and well over six foot. Bellamy stomped on his foot, causing the man to drop the axe and push his strong arms into Bellamy's windpipe. Bellamy dug his nails in the guy's arms, struggling to keep his footing from pushing himself away from being choked to death. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and quickly stabbed the guy in the gut, rendering himself free from a choke hold. While the Grounder stumbled in pain, Bellamy quickly slit his throat before running down the hallway when he heard footsteps.

He was about to run right past where he wanted to go, before coming to a frightened halt when someone was banging on the window next to him. He stopped in his tracks and turned to his left to see Monty smiling at him through the small window on the door. Bellamy was breathing heavily smiling gladly to see his friend again. He looked down and saw there was a pass-code on the door. There was no way he had time to try his luck. He suddenly began to get discouraged and was visibly frustrated before Monty caught his attention again, pointing to the door across.

Bellamy turned around and approached the window slowly, eyes widening when he saw her. She was sitting on her bed, staring at the floor sadly with her side facing the door. She looked exhausted, hopeless, lost, confused.

"Clarke…" he breathed.

"Clarke!" He yelled, banging on the window as quickly as he could. "Clarke! It's me!"

Her blue eyes sparkled when she saw him, her face not fully registering that it was him at first. She made a confused look, her eyebrows contorting before her eyes widened again and she ran to the window.

She began to cry. "Bellamy! Oh my god!"

"Clarke," he started out of breath, looking both ways down the hallway. "I have to go! Damn it! I…I'm sorry!"

"It's okay," she said, still crying a little with a sad smile. "I'm glad you're here."

"I found some of the others—Jones, Raven, Finn, Jasper, Lauren, and Oskar! They're all okay," he gulped. "There's a well not too far from here, if you ever get the chance to get out with Monty or the others, head down the road outside of Gate A! That's our meeting spot! Okay?! I lov—I have to go!"

He was speaking fast but Clarke nodded, holding onto every word. He suddenly looked terrified, looking down the hallway, before looking at her once again. She put her hand on the window and he did the same before he had to dart away. She was left alone, standing in her room, still staring at where he had once been. She saw guards quickly running after him and her heart stopped when she heard the gunshots. Monty was still at the window and they stood there staring at each other with the same fear that gripped their very soul.

> **::~)(~)(~)(~)(~)(~::**

John sighed, his ears ringing with the alarms blaring at every corner of the building he was in. He was lucky to have been allowed to wander around the many areas of Mount Weather as a supply carrier. But whether he was or not didn't matter at this point. He wasn't going to let Pax bully him. He was going to show her who he really was with a little payback.

He had found a way to hack into the mainframe records a few moments ago, allowing him access of Murphy's location. It was just what he was good at, and the sole reason he had been arrested on the Ark. Regardless of what Murphy had done, will do, or is going to, nothing could change the fact that they were best friends. Even if John had cared for him and regarded him more than Murphy reciprocated. On the Ark they screwed around as kids, knowing full well they'd end up in the Skybox. It didn't matter to them much then; they both had shitty family problems.

He stormed straight to the isolated room his best friend was in, determined. He swung open the vaulted door slowly, and stepped inside, careful not to grab the attention of passing guards. He could hear faint gunshots and yells from the walls outside of the chamber.

Murphy wasn't even in his cot, but on the floor looking wasted. Beads of sweat mixed in with dried blood scars coated his face as he struggled to keep his head up. He was leaning against the metal frame of the bed and squinted to see who had entered the room. He looked exhausted and drugged up.

John took another look back at the doorway before taking a long stride down by Murphy. He said nothing before his fears were confirmed—Murphy had an IV stuck straight into his arm.

"What?" Murphy slurred, swinging his head around. His vision was cloudy and his eyes were watered over. "Mbege…? Is that…you?"

John was stopped a moment and looked at him, surprised to hear his own name after so long. He shrugged it off and continued to carefully remove the needle from Murphy's arm before rolling his sleeve back down.

"I'm dead, aren't I?" Murphy asked. He was slowly coming to without the needle.

John looked back at the doorway again. "Yes. It's me," he whispered. He then lifted Murphy up off of the floor and onto his cot. His heart sank at seeing how beaten up his friend was. He was used to getting into fights himself, and seeing Murphy with a new black eye every week, but this was different.

Murphy blinked a little and then furrowed his brows. "What _the hell…_?"

John sighed. "It's okay, Murphy. I'm here to get you out of here."

Murphy looked down at his tied wrists and then back at John. "What? You're dead! No, no, no…!"

"Shh!" John looked back at the doorway again. "Don't be so loud!"

Murphy noticed the alarms. "What's going on? How are you alive? I saw you on the list back at camp."

"It's a long story," John said dryly. He then lifted Murphy up on his feet.

"You need to go," John said quickly. There were boots clanking quickly past the hallway from his room.

Murphy had so many questions, but at this point, he'd learn his lesson in the best thing possible was to ask little to nothing. He cringed as his leg was pressed against the ground.

"Sorry about your thigh. There's not much I can do about that. Or your hands."

Murphy blinked again. He was almost entirely awake. "I'm fine. I'm used to the pain."

John led him over to the doorway by the shoulder, peeking out first to see the coast was clear. He grabbed Murphy and took him out in the hallway with him. The alarms were sounding louder in the open as gunshots were being fired outside of the building.

"You need to go. Far away from this place." John reached into his jacket and placed a small pistol in Murphy's pants before covering it up.

Murphy said nothing and nodded. He wasn't sure if he could run, but he could try.

"On my count, you run out of here. Down straight ahead, take two lefts, and then straight again. You'll see the exit. I saw everyone flooding the East gate. That'll take you Northwest, where you'll be able to safely get away from here."

There were some more footsteps coming from farther down some corridors. "Now go! I have to yell that you escaped! I'm giving you a headstart….go!"

Murphy didn't hesitate and ran as fast as he could, gritting the air that flew through his teeth at how much pain his thigh was causing him. Tristan had stabbed him at least four inches in.

" _Prisoner escaped! Prisoner J. Murphy escaped!"_ John yelled at the top of his lungs once he saw Murphy was out of sight. Once he heard some murmurs of guards heading their way down in his location, John took off back to where he would be safe from questions.

Pax was seen turning the corner, leading four heavily armed guards with her as she saw Murphy's chamber was empty.

"Damn it!" She mumbled. She turned to her guards. "Find him. Bring him back."

One guard remained with her, about to ask her a question, but her attention was turned in the opposite direction. John Mbege was seen flying down the hallway and was soon gone in a flash. She caught on quickly; she knew what he did. She wasn't stupid.

She was seething mad. "I'm going after him! Anya's in charge of this place while I'm gone!"

"But, lieutenant," the guard asked. "There was a switch in the quarantine ward. M. Green was traded for a girl—one of the intruders from the Hundred camp. Her arm is completely gone. She needs medical treatment."

"It isn't anyone's job to bargain with those people!" She hissed.

The guard shifted a bit. "No, ma'am. It was Iris who made a deal with them. The commander wouldn't like us messing with his daughter's decision."

"Overly compassionate little bitch," Pax growled. "You lecture the hell out of her if you have to. That wasn't her job!"

The guard hesitated and then nodded.

"Tell Anya I'm going after my assignment."

And with that being said, Pax knew everything that was going to play out. The intruders had escaped, survived, and Murphy was headed right in their direction. She'd find him and bring him back one way or another. It was simply her job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy, you stubborn hunk of man. Always having to go outnumbered to save Clarke. Tsk.
> 
> BELLARKE, MAN.
> 
> But! I must say, this is a turning point chapter. And from this point on there will be more canons I promise. It will switch back in forth between groups for each chapter so just a fair warning. If you are confused about anything, then just ask.
> 
> Sooo yeah. There will still be fluff/angst/love in later chapters. Action and mystery are just kind of the priority right now. Sue me…forever…
> 
> Also, you're probably wondering how a Pax/Murphy could work. Well, I won't give away too much but a few reasons:
> 
> A) It may seem odd that they could potentially pair up. All she wants is to do her job and it would just be odd since she played a part in beating him up. Well...exactly. He's manipulative, wants power. And she kinda does too, but she is a lot more intelligent, making them work due to the fact he can't possibly take advantage of someone like her.
> 
> B) She may seem like a ruthless badass, but there's a lot more to her that we'll find out. So, for future sake, her and Murphy are actually kind of perfect. Not in an abusive way either...we'll learn more about this. I'm planning on making it unique, not cliche, and not so fluffy. It'll definitely be unique and different :)


	9. Feverish Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their fates are about to change.

One tough girl, eh? Something made it seem downright malicious for one teenage girl to have to go through as many trials as Raven Reyes has. Going down to save her boyfriend's ass only to find out he stayed true of his Romeo reputation and then breaking up one of the closest relationships she ever had. Then she worked hard and aimlessly for the Hundred camp, full of people who didn't care about her whatsoever just so they could communicate with their families on the Ark. What thanks did she get? Well, Murphy gave her a nice bullet in the abdomen if that counts.

And then there was her current situation. A malevolent force, sick and twisted fate, call it whatever you want. She stayed humble and selfless in her endeavors, looking for the answer to making sure everyone was together again. They were all she had at that point. Yes, even fighting with Bellamy had its purpose. Even if going in to save someone he cared would cost her an arm and a leg.

And once again, it did. Literally. Fate was fortunate enough to pay them a break after the unseen mine went off adjacent to Raven. She should've been dead but that would've been too generous. She passed out immediately from the blood loss of what used to be her left arm, now mangled and in a pile of bloody flesh on the ground next to her.

It was just another thing to lose sleep over, another nightmare for Bellamy and the others to have seen that evening. She was another bargaining chip for the Grounders and the other group to use to their advantage in the standout. In the midst of the chaos, the girl named Iris was able to trade Monty for Raven's arm to be treated with their technology. Bellamy's hotheaded nature stood unprecedented when it came to choosing her best interest. Regardless, she was better off with them. She was stronger than they could ever imagine—even as their captive.

Once again, Raven awoke for as many times as she shouldn't have. Her eyes opened with a sore sting to them. Her dark eyes met bright white ceiling and a bright white room. She stirred slightly startled, gaping all around her. The only sound was of her heavy breathing and her rapid heartbeat in her ears. She turned to be proven wrong about sound and found herself hooked up to monitors and machines of all kinds. She wanted to rip them off and jump out of bed and scream, but suddenly felt no motion or sensation in her left arm. It was gone.

The remains of her shoulder were bandaged intensely. "Cat with nine lives," she mumbled. At this point, she didn't question her validity of being alive and now only felt immensely grateful each time.

She couldn't wait around forever and cleared her hoarse voice in an attempt to yell for help. She needed someone to talk to; any face would work at that point. Even if it would be a Grounder, if they were keeping her alive, she was better off asking than going unanswered and alone.

The door had opened and revealed no one in Raven's direct view. She heard a heaving sigh from a spot out in the hallway and almost jumped straight out of bed when she saw who entered her room.

"Oh my God, you're alive!"

Abby made a bitter smile and locked the door before making her way over to the side of the bed. She looked at the monitors and checked Raven's vitals before letting a tear spill down her cheek.

"You're quite the fighter."

Raven took her in an immediate hug, disregarding that she was only able to embrace her with one arm. They were too much like mother and daughter at times when the other wasn't able to be around their own.

"I guess they have to keep me alive."

" _I'm_ keeping you alive, as well. And they are just going to have to deal with it."

Raven grunted a little trying to get used to using one arm to sit up. "So Mount Weather, eh? Not what I was expecting. Then again, no one expected there to be bloodthirsty savages running around on Earth."

"I assume you found a way to make it down alright?" Raven added, allowing a dim smile.

Abby hesitated a moment. "We used Mecha Station. A couple of us."

"Don't tell me…"

"They're alright, no need to worry," she quickly interrupted. "We did what we had to do."

Raven looked around the room for a moment, to gather her thoughts. "How many left and what did you use?"

"432… give or take. The Alpha Station was surprisingly capable of allowing several hundreds of people to huddle up for entry. There are a lot of causalities in what camp we did make from the wreckage."

"And you shouldn't have come here. Looking for all of us. It's not much better down here, you know that."

"It's a start," Abby whispered hopefully. "You all have survived and surprised us. We clearly were underestimated by everyone's abilities."

Raven made a mocking bow. "Oh stop it. Luck was on our side. Hell, luck was on my side more times than it should have been."

Abby only made another bitter smile in reply.

"Well I guess now that we're here, we should find a way to get the others and get out."

Abby made a sigh and shook her head. "Not recommended," she rolled up her sleeve to show a nasty forming scar. "After you attempted getting the others out of here, they punished us in thinking we made contact to find a way for them to get us."

Raven opened her mouth in surprise. " _That_? _That_? You were innocent and they did that to all of you?!"

Abby nodded. "I'm glad it wasn't something worse."

"Why are they even keeping any of you or –us—alive? If they are that brutal…"

"I think it's best if we just stay on their good side, just for the time being," Abby pulled the sheets closer over Raven. "We'll figure out something later. For now they assigned me as a doctor for this side of the ward and you won't be able to move around for a while. Get some rest."

The Sass Machine would've offered a smart-ass rebuttal and fought Abby in order to get her way, but she had no energy left. She sunk back down in the bed sheets and allowed herself to snuggle up into a deep sleep, trying her hardest not to cry over losing an arm.

> **~()~()~()~()~()~**

"Damn it! _Damn it_!" Bellamy cursed loudly, throwing his knife deep into the bark of an unfortunate tree.

"Bellamy, it's okay! You got me out!" Monty pleaded, hoping somewhere that he'd get through Bellamy's thick head.

Bellamy stood where he was, breathing heavily with a look of anger that softened into one of extreme frustration. He took a deep sigh and tore out his knife that was lodged deep into the tree next to him.

"Not all of you, not all—" He didn't think he would cry over something so frustrating, but at that moment he allowed a few silent tears to make their way down his cheeks while his back faced Monty. He was supposed to be a robust leader, not one who cried over a failed attempt.

' _If at first you don't succeed, try and try again…'_

Oh how he wished that applied to the situation. He should've been more proud than anything to have been able to rescue Monty out of that hell. But not only did he need Clarke there with them, but he _wanted_ her there with them. It was something he'd never admit but also something his brain wouldn't allow him to forget.

Monty still said nothing and sighed softly. No words could comfort the brunette boy. Not like there was really much to say other than how ruthless the Grounders and the other group of people were. But that would just be stating the palpable nature surrounding them and there was no point in making meager conversation.

Jones was making his way through a safe clearing they had decided on and absentmindedly allowed his hands to hit a low tree. "No sign of Oskar."

This only frustrated Bellamy more. "Damn it."

"Look, I'm sure he's okay. Kid is pretty smart for his age and size. I know he got out."

"And how the hell do you know?"

"I just know," Jones replied matter-of-factly. "And you need to start having a little faith."

"It's beyond the point of _faith_ ," Bellamy snapped, more so in a frustrated tone about to cry rather than an angry one. "Now we need extreme luck or some—magical act of God or whoever. And that won't happen."

Jones stayed silent for a moment and reluctantly allowed himself to speak up, knowing full well that the news he was about to break would be the last thing Bellamy would want to hear.

"Bellamy? There's something I found a little ways from here."

The brunette boy didn't so much as give a second glance. "I don't want to talk about it right now. We need to go back to the well. Jasper, Lauren, and Spacewalker are all waiting for us. Besides, Monty isn't injured and I plan to keep it that way when we bring him back to everyone else."

"Right," Jones said. "Monty isn't injured. Exactly. But…I would really just like you to see something, okay?"

"We don't have time!"

Monty cleared his throat. "No, let's just go see what he's talking about real quick. Jasper can wait."

Bellamy looked at his friend with a stunned look. He never thought he'd hear the words come out of his mouth in his life. He took a deep sigh and looked around the fleeting light that shone down on the forest with a contemplative pursing of the lips.

"Make it quick," he snapped.

Jones nodded as if to say 'of course'. He led them through the undermining covering of trees that appeared identical with each step they took. The silence before them was foreboding and awkward as the crunching of leaves and sticks seemed to echo through the stillness. Each of them was weary and sick of fighting, laughing, talking—basically any form of communication was old and dead. A liability, rather.

Jones was leading in the front, embarrassed to show how nervous he was for Bellamy to see what he found. He knew overreacting was a common aspect at this point and clutched the strap that held his carbine protectively. He was somewhat proud of himself for developing into his own person once the chains of being Bellamy's minion were dropped from question. It was a deep sense of meaning churning from within and he knew its limits to control the depths to which he may take it.

He found his legs moving awkwardly ahead of him with a shaky disposition to know how angry Bellamy would be. Jones was fortunate enough to put up what he found with little fight.

Bellamy blinked his eyes once or twice to allow his eyes to see that there were thick strips of rope tied tightly around a thick tree. He saw a portion of what appeared to be the leg of the figure behind the stump.

Jones stopped in his place before the tree and turned around to place a hand protectively on Bellamy's chest. "Promise me you won't kill him."

Bellamy raised a brow in protest and opened his mouth. "Ok." It was a reluctant and drawled out response.

Jones led them around the tree and got between Bellamy protectively. The two boys' mouths dropped to the floor when they saw who was tied up before them. It almost felt surreal. He had no burn marks, and was cleaned up decently for someone who apparently was left out before the blast. The scars on his face were still ostensible from past encounters with torture and pitiful beatings. He looked pale and weary as much as any of them. His hands were bound and tied at the wrist tightly, along with his mouth. It also looked as if a couple fingers on his hand were broken and was supported together with a homemade tourniquet for them.

Murphy looked up at them with sad eyes. Bellamy knew they were fake emotion used to deploy his hidden agenda. As expected, Bellamy found himself coming down with a powerful fist and knife only to be stopped by Jones. He ignored the scratch on his bicep as his skin got in the way of the blade and shoved Bellamy back.

"This bastard deserves to die!" Bellamy roared. His eyes were blazing with a berserk rage.

"Bellamy!" Jones yelled, using all his strength to push him back away from brutally murdering Murphy. His feet were slipping against part of the dirt.

"You can't! He's our tool now!" Jones said quickly and desperately. "Don't kill him!"

Murphy vaguely wondered how many times he would keep getting saved by luck of the draw. He was to a point where he almost wanted to die, but not quite.

Jones used all the strength left in his body to overpower Bellamy and forcefully ripped the knife out of his fist. He was defenseless without it after losing the automatic in the midst of their rescue mission. Bellamy stood there breathing heavily in rage.

"There's no way he can get out of this now, Jones. Let me do this."

"No," he still held the knife out of his grasp. "If he was this close to Mount Weather that means they took him in and he knows more than we give him credit for."

"Like he was able to tell us much the first time? Who's to say he isn't carrying another virus?"

Jones sighed. "We don't. But I just don't see why they would do something like that to him twice. They seem a lot smarter than that."

Jones went around to the back of the stump without a word. He poked his head around after a snip was heard. "We're taking him back with us," he said. The rope was left lying loosely around Murphy's waist.

"You're out of your damn mind!" Bellamy hissed.

Monty took a pitying look at Murphy. "No, he's right."

It was two against one. "Monty, he tried to _kill_ Jasper. He killed Myles in cold blood. He killed too many of us! He'll do it again!"

"I know," Monty sighed. "But for right now, he's clearly outnumbered. If he tried anything, then we don't think twice about killing him."

Jones got back up on his feet still holding Bellamy's knife away from him. "Exactly. So we bring him back."

Bellamy was becoming thoroughly convinced more and more with each passing second that the people he was with actually _wanted_ to die. While it was too soon to make rightful assumptions based off of things that hadn't happened yet, he couldn't be too precautious. In some ways, John Murphy was more dangerous than the Grounders. For the delinquents anyway. Everything was happening too fast for Bellamy to even think of a solution to handle. There were too many problems that day that needed fast solutions that he just couldn't manage.

But Monty was right despite never admitting it. If he tried anything then he was dead. He hoped by this point that even Murphy would know that. He seemed to be clueless back when he murdered Myles in broad daylight, out of bitter hatred, but this time just being around that asshole seemed to put some sense of relief in Bellamy. A relief he wanted to be okay with.

> **~()~()~()~()~()~**

"What the hell is he doing here?"

Bellamy had insisted on being the one to drag Murphy back to the well with them. He didn't make time for breaks for anyone and held no pity on Murphy's limp. It was now dark and the group had made torches in order to see clearly. Through the dim light of the oval torches, Bellamy's face was furrowed in a way that it would've been dangerous to even touch him much less talk to him. It wasn't anyone's fault; Murphy was angering him to the point that he was doing everything in his willpower not to split Murphy flesh by flesh. He literally threw him down on the ground when he was satisfied with stopping and let go of his grip and removed the strip of cloth around his mouth.

"Nice to see you too, goggles," Murphy spat dryly. This gained him a sudden kick in the gut from Bellamy, rendering him silent and groaning.

Everyone was in a state of shock at seeing Bellamy bring back Murphy alive. Still, this didn't bar Jasper from giving Monty the tightest hug he could muster at the emotional reunion with quiet apologies and a few watery eyes.

"Are we going to question him?" Finn spoke up, leaning closer to Bellamy. He took a glance at Murphy, who for the most part didn't want to make eye contact with anyone.

"He'll talk when he wants," Bellamy grumbled. "For now we're spending the night here. We'll build a fire and go back to the cave at first light."

"Where's Raven?" Finn asked. Bellamy hesitated and avoided direct eye contact.

"Monty's here, Raven's there." He was too exhausted to explain in further words.

Finn's face dropped. "She's—alive, right?" Bellamy nodded bitterly.

"Let's hope they keep her that way."

There wasn't much they could do in protests or arguing, so they left it alone. The group decided to find a way to make their own places on the dirt floor with what few belongings they had carried with them. Namely out of Jasper and Lauren's bag each. Bellamy took Murphy like a dog on a tight leash and strapped him securely against the cold and moldy bricks of the well with his rope being strapped to the metal pole that had once anchored the bucket.

Finn had volunteered to go out and gather sticks, twigs, leaves, and rocks to harbor a decent campfire for the night. Despite what shape his knee was in, he wanted to prove he still had skills he could contribute to the rest of them.

He went out a couple yards away from the well where he was still able to look back and see the golden glow fairly well. What lay in front of him was decently highlighted by the moonlight above. He was using Lauren's knapsack that she emptied in order to gather the materials for the fire. He picked up leaf after stick after rock after dirt and shoved it in.

Finn had stood up suddenly; slightly startled as he felt a quick rush of wind past the top of his head. He shrugged it off and made a mistake as soon as he did so. He heard some creaking and moans of the tree branches above his head and peered upwards instinctively. There was another sudden rush of air, this time not caused by the wind and he found himself gathering up materials quicker before closing the top of the bag and hurrying back.

No one seemed to notice his paranoia when he returned as they were all leaning against a tree resting their eyes and waiting patiently for the campfire to be built. He dumped the belongings on the dusty ground quickly before a sudden and hard pain to the side of his face caused him to fall straight onto the ground. The others rushed to his side asking him what the hell was wrong with him. Something solid had collided with his face and disappeared in the atmosphere above them.

The air was uneasy and fell upon them like a sudden hunter preying on innocent animals. Murphy had been sleeping upright in his spot against the well and was the first to look up and see a clear figure hiding in the trees above them. He contemplated yelling for their attention or at least warning them, but found no words left inside of him. He, especially, wasn't going to reward those bastards.

Finn quickly recovered and was on his feet in no time. It wasn't seconds after his stance had resumed before a figure dressed in all black had attacked him from behind, sending him stumbling into a nearby tree. Everyone spun their heads around, seemingly frozen in their spots as everything happened too quickly.

Finn had bounced back quickly and dodged the punches, kicks, and jabs as the figure before him was now fully face to face with him, wearing a hood that only allowed access to their eyes. The figure was slim and tall and swift in their fighting. Finn dodged a dagger near his right ear as it landed clean into the tree behind him and grabbed the person's wrist, throwing them on the ground. The figure made an effeminate grunt before being lifted up by Finn's strong hands and thrown against the tree in an attempt to stun them. He struck them across the face before throwing them face first in the dirty ground again. The figure lay there, hood and mask now off a few inches from them.

Finn was breathing heavily as the others surrounded the figure that was hunched over with a hand on their stomach. The person let out another effeminate cough before a long strand of light brown hair fell across their back. Bellamy stormed over and grabbed the person up easily and spun them around with fists clenched tightly around the collar of their shirt. It was a woman.

She put out her hands defensively and allowed her face to break into a dark smirk. Bellamy let her go when he decided she wasn't threatening and stood his ground.

"Who are you?"

"You tell me, Bellamy Blake."

The others let out a gasp to see a strange young woman say his name. Bellamy stood there with a surprised look. It quickly turned into a look of annoyance.

"How do you know me?" Bellamy demanded. This time he resumed in his authoritative position in front of her face.

Her hazel eyes shone mischievously. "You don't need to know that."

This prompted him to grab the collar of her shirt again.

"In fact," she said. "You're Lauren Kane, daughter of one of the Council members." Lauren gulped and took a step back.

The woman directed her attention to the others. "Monty Green and Jasper Jordan," she clicked her tongue. "Bunch of drug heads who decided to be immature in their endeavors to take advantage of illegal use of pharmaceuticals since your parents worked with them. How childish."

Jasper and Monty looked at each other before taking their eyes in the attention of the ground.

"Jones, well, your life is pretty boring," she said coolly. "Finn Collins is also quite the ladies' man as well as being immature and irrational when it comes to rules. That's about it."

Jones clutched the gun around his neck protectively and tilted his head out of being offended. Finn's eyes remained glued on her as she rattled off more facts about each of them.

She took her eyes back into Bellamy's, never dropping her smirk. "And you Bellamy Blake have got quite the obsession with your sister's safety."

Bellamy shook her in her place. "That's _enough_."

"Answer me when I ask _who the hell are you_?" He spat. "Tell me who you're working for and what the hell is going on with our friends! Bargain with the Grounders, do whatever you have to in order to bring them back!"

"Call me Pax," she replied with a bored look, pushing him away with a surprising strength. "And I'm not in charge of 'your friends'."

"So you're working with the Grounders?" Bellamy demanded.

"Yes and no."

"What the hell does that mean?"

She sighed. "Yes, technically I am. But no. I don't want to be associated with those dirty assholes."

The rest of them remained silent with her reply, unable to think of a proper reply. She was sarcastic and wily.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Bellamy yelled. He looked around defensively. "Are there more of you here?"

"No," she replied with crossed arms. "Don't get yourself worked up over nothing. I'm alone."

Bellamy wasn't fazed and stormed up to glare at her again. "Don't think I'm an idiot. Tell me where my sister and my friends are and maybe we won't kill you."

Pax wasn't amused. "What good would it be to kill me? I know too much. Besides…I'm not here to mess with you. I'm here to take back what belongs to _them_."

She directed her attention at Murphy, who sat there looking back at her with a glazed expression.

"Fine. Take him."

Finn cut in front of him before he could remove Murphy's bonds. "Wait. She may have a point."

"Yeah, Bell-boy. I may have a point," Pax added with a smirk. Bellamy looked back at her with a sneering look and cringed at her sudden use of a nickname.

"She says she knows too much," Finn whispered. "Murphy stays here with us and we can use her as a tool to get us back in."

Bellamy thought this over for a moment. "Okay." He turned back to Pax.

"You can be difficult or we can beat you the same way we beat him," Bellamy pointed to Murphy. "The rules applied are the same for you both—you try something, you die. You answer our questions when dawn breaks and then—you take us back to Mount Weather and bring us back our friends."

Pax rolled her eyes and sighed. "I expected you would be difficult."

Bellamy went over and roughly pinned her up against a tree; far away from their few supplies of knives, guns, and other things. She held out her wrist expectantly and was met with a rough strip of twine attaching her wrists together before being tied even tighter by the waist around the base of the tree.

Several moments passed and while they were busy prepping the campfire, she looked at each of them observantly before finding something to say.

"Bell-boy," she called.

Bellamy was crouched over the circular base of the fire and growled in annoyance as he turned his head around to meet her smirk.

"You know, if you people want to even try to go back then they won't hesitate in killing you on spot. They don't forget names—or faces."

"We're still going."

"Really? And risk me being killed too? If I die, do you know what would happen? Another war would break out."

"We're already in a war, hun," Bellamy snapped. His back was facing her at this point.

Pax let out a bitter chuckle. "This is a sad excuse for a war and you know it. If I die, well, let's just say everyone you come to know will die right before your very eyes. I mean, unless you want that to happen—"

Bellamy turned around suddenly with a glare in an attempt to get her to shut up.

Her voice was low and serious. "If I die, their war will be something catastrophic."

Bellamy turned back around to place more leaves to allow the sparks of the campfire to grow larger. He looked at the ground searchingly and suddenly found his head swimming. Something inside told him her warning was a lot deeper than he'd expect. Something told him she was right. Still, he'd get more answers out of her in the morning. For that point in time he needed rest from a long and emotionally draining day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect some serious Bellamy rage from here until basically the end of the story~ Enjoy~


	10. Comme ci, comme ça

It wasn't even day break before Bellamy was barking orders to move out. He mainly sauntered off because he was agitated to have to lug around a prisoner and a hostage; both of whom were on his peeve list. He was itching for something to have happened as they slept and because of it, Bellamy hardly caught some shut-eye. Exhausted and frustrated Bellamy equals a surplus amount of bitchiness. Inexorable and gratuitous hostility was drawn out if Murphy or Pax even blinked the wrong way at Bellamy. Egg shells were certainly being walked upon.

To everyone's surprise (and Bellamy's reluctant internal agreement), he decided to go back in the direction of the cave until further notice. Pax's foreshadowing of an inescapable doomsday seemed to gnaw at him more than he wanted it to. Of course the fact she could've been a detrimental, serpentine liar was also put into consideration. Murphy was nearly enough to be the owner of such characteristics and then some; Bellamy wasn't sure if he could handle _two_.

On their way back to the cave during a somewhat reluctant break from walking, Bellamy decided to pull Finn to the side away from any unwelcome ears or eyes.

"I want you to have this." Bellamy's voice was cautious as he leaned to hide the view of him handing Finn the extra handheld he found on Monty. "Do you think you could use this if you had to?"

"I have an injured knee… not hands, Bellamy." Finn's eyebrow rose as he allowed his lips to remain in a grave line. Weapons were short to come by and Finn had given his to Bellamy earlier in the night before, rendering himself defenseless.

Bellamy gave a soft sigh. "Blow out their brains if they try anything. Anything you have to do to keep the rest of us safe."

Finn took a small glance where the two implied captives were off hidden behind bushes most likely taking swift restroom breaks. "I don't trust them as much as you, but we still need to find a way to get them to talk."

"I don't know who to start with."

"I would pick Pax—she's affiliated with the Grounders and knows things about Mount Weather. I assume they only took Murphy to a disclosed location and told him what he needed to."

Bellamy rolled his eyes. "He's not stupid, though. He most likely overheard more than even he intended to."

"I would let Murphy slide for the time being—you know—keep him on a tight watch. I'm telling you that girl is our best bet right now. But, it's your choice, captain."

"Again with the choices?" Bellamy was still sore over picking Blondie over his sister. "Whatever, we do what we have to do. We're still going to find my sister one way or another out of this," he sighed.

After some time of giving the captives a comfort break, they retied the two to stumps in the ground and secured it mainly by close guard. Murphy remained the more distant of the two—saying nothing and staring at nothing. He was almost a walking shell that didn't know what to do with himself. That was terrifying to witness.

Despite current obvious fears, they still had to maintain posture and sanity in order to figure out what do next. There was a small stream not too far from the base of the cave, and the group had decided to coerce there for the time being. Their stomachs growled with disdain and clouded their minds with a selfish desire. Lauren was down by the stream with Jones, cleaning the scratches and dirt off of their faces, skin, and clothes all the while looking tastily at some fish in the cobbled watery floor.

Jones had crafted a spear out of a long, loose tree branch and extended his arm straight into a squirming silvery delight. "Man…I'm gonna eat the shit out of this fish," he mumbled mostly to himself. He kept it impaled further up the spear as he went for the fish's friends. The long stick would serve as a chain of fish over the fire later.

Lauren flung the excess water off her hands as she hobbled backwards up the slope away from the stream. She looked behind her expectantly to find Bellamy taking a stroll in her direction. Jones traveled a short distance down the stream in the opposite direction of the two, silently giving them privacy to converse. Bellamy stood next to her. They both watched passively as the wistful waters washed over the stream.

"You're one of the smarter people out of all of this, so I'm gonna ask; what do you propose we do?" Bellamy's arms were crossed and his chin tilted upwards in a slightly egotistical fashion. He was being cold and demanding, as per usual when he was frustrated.

"About our guests or about your sister?"

Bellamy hesitated for a moment. "Both. But mainly the captives for right now."

Lauren took a deep breath. "Bellamy, no matter what happens I have a feeling that we're making the right choice by keeping them alive and with us, but…they are still human." The four words came out like a mallet hitting a gong.

Instead of the expected outrage kind of response, Bellamy measly looked at her with an appalled expression. "That's great and all that you're being a Clarke. They'll most likely take advantage of that and kill us." The sarcastic insults were dripping.

"We're dead either way," Lauren said bitterly. Her words came out laced with more spite than she intended. Bitterness was a common ally to her in all fairness.

Bellamy stood there still managing to stare at her incredulously. It was a messy situation that couldn't bode well both ways. She was right.

"Still," she looked up at him with a weak glint of hope. "Just a pinch of kindness wouldn't kill you. And I promise I won't come out and say I told you so when they comply with some form of _nice_ interrogation."

Bellamy's mouth opened in protest but Lauren's smirk brought words to a halt.

" _Nice_? So, what, you suggest we bake them cookies and tuck them in at night with a bedtime story?"

"You know what I mean," Lauren spat. She was getting worn out of sarcasm. "I'm not sure how I feel about Pax—but I do know she seems more willing to talk than Murphy. I think he wants pity right now that he knows he's not getting."

Bellamy rubbed his temples out of habit. "Great. Let's say we're "nice" to her…what do you expect she'll tell us other than she's right, we're wrong? Think about it," he looked back at Pax as she sat bored against a tree. "The girl is no better than a Murphy number two. How can we trust her at all?"

"We can't. But we try."

Bellamy shook his head silently.

"It's a trial and error thing. Unless you have better ideas. Torture is below us—I know that's what you were thinking."

Bellamy furrowed his brows deeper. "I'm not talking to her," he said quickly.

Lauren took a quick glance back at the others. "Jasper can do it."

Bellamy gave her an unbelieving look. "How is he any better than the rest of us?"

"He isn't. But he's been giving her the eyeball for the past hour, so maybe he could work his charm or something. I don't know." Lauren and Bellamy both glanced back at Jasper who was indeed giving eye candy to Pax, who for the most part remained oblivious.

"She didn't give me the impression as the type who would be openly searching for a date."

Bellamy inwardly wanted to strangle Jasper. As much as the kid had grown in nearly the past month, he was still quite the sucker when it came to someone snagging his heart. He certainly wasn't blinded when it came to his feelings for Octavia, but now he seemed to trust Jasper a bit more once she went off with a Grounder. But Pax wasn't Lincoln—she could easily take advantage of someone as vulnerable and light hearted as Jasper. How he even found it remotely okay for Goggles to second glance at the girl was beyond Bellamy. It deeply concerned him.

"Well, we'll keep an eye on him. I'm sure Monty will give him a man talk if he hasn't already. They're both glued at the hip."

"What about Murphy?"

"Screw him," she said.

"She did say she was here because he belonged to the Grounders after all. Maybe we should just dump him back in their camp as a peace offering." He wanted that idea to surpass everyone's opinions more than anything. But everyone had more common sense than he had, even if he was beyond the point of agreeing with their pragmatism, it didn't matter.

Bellamy wanted to change the subject. "Well, Jones is almost done fishing. We should eat soon."

"You're not eating until someone talks to her."

Bellamy looked at her and scoffed. "Excuse me? You're preventing _me_ from eating now?"

"Hey, it's going to be a while before the fish cook anyway," she shrugged. "The sooner we get answers the sooner we have a game plan."

The brunette boy was almost used to people one-upping him. _Almost_.

"Fine, I'll go and get Jasper to talk to her. Then me." He took off in the direction of Jasper by the fire as he was attempting to relight it for breakfast.

"Hey guys! Any luck with fishing? I'm almost done with the fire." It was safe to say that Jasper hadn't been the best at trying to start a fire and was noticeably being given eye rolls by a silently frustrated Monty across from him.

It even could have been safe to assume his morning cheeriness about starting a fire was fueled by his subtle motivation to impress their female captive.

"We need your help," Bellamy stated.

"I'll work better with some food, so no worries." Monty looked up briefly and gave a small smile. "Once I get my hands on that radio you guys found, we should head back to camp so I can—"

"—We're not going back to camp, Monty. The radio can wait," Bellamy snipped. "We're here for Jasper."

Jasper paused rubbing two sticks together and looked up at the two with an ever so curious look. "Whatcha need?"

Bellamy hesitated for a moment, and turned his head in an incomplete glance at Pax approximately ten yards away. She was sitting quietly observing her boots, luckily finding no real reason to plot with Murphy somewhat close to her.

She was watching them mainly when they weren't looking. It was obvious they were talking about what to do, what to ask, if they would kill them. It couldn't have made a lick of difference what they thought; she had no real business with them. She was ready and somewhat bored to answer their questions with a cunning flick of the tongue once she saw the boy with goggles begin to make his way over.

Her hazel eyes scanned his nervous expression and replied with her signature emotionless gaze. He rubbed his hands together briefly and decided to sit cross-legged in front of her.

"I'm Jasper." He stuck out his hand with a small attempt at a friendly smile. She stared at his outstretched hand and met his eyes with eyebrows furrowing upwards in a doubtful expression.

"…What the hell are you doing?"

Jasper took a deep sigh and brought himself to take her rudeness in an objective, nonchalant way. "Okay. Let's try this again—" He placed his hand in the palm of her own, despite her bonds, and shook it.

She continued to give him a dubious look. He recovered his hand back to his side and decided to get to the point.

"I'm supposed to interrogate you." His honest statement nearly surprised Pax. It was certainly straightforward for all things he could've started off with.

"What do you want to know?" Her words came out smooth and uninterested as her voice remained unchanging in tone as it kept a steady tinge of knowledge and chilliness.

Truthfully, he didn't know what exactly to ask that wouldn't seem brash. It wasn't in his nature. Sure he had his precautions for people like her; he just didn't feel like scaring her. Even if she wasn't the type to easily be moved.

"What are you doing here?" He started quietly. "I mean you must've known you were walking into a trap if all you wanted to go after was Murphy. Hell, you could probably just take him back with you if you really wanted. Bellamy's just kind of a hothead. I wouldn't let him get in your way. Just—don't let your people or whoever bother us. Or hurt the others they have there already."

"First of all, Murphy is the least of my worries at this point. And nice try on trying to make me feel better about Bell-Boy," her lips pursed in a mocking manner, "he's big bad wolf. Don't convince yourself any otherwise or you're a fool."

Jasper gulped a lump in his throat and cleared it. "Well—"

"—he's not going to fall for anything I have to say. Even if I do tell the truth. It's pointless for me to be here, I admit that, but he's going to do what he wants in using me to try and get your friends back. You can try and tell him otherwise, or maybe you could try to convince him that I actually don't belong with the Grounders then be my guest. He'll have to believe me eventually. Sooner or later he's going to have to stop trying to prove himself."

"What do you mean?"

"He's just going to look like an idiot if he continues to be stubborn and cocky, that's all."

Jasper sat dumbfounded. It was both fascinating and slightly unnerving to discover that she observed each of them psychologically and through whatever line of work she did. She was certainly much more intelligent than they anticipated.

Jasper figured at this point that she knew what she was doing when deciding to go after Murphy, so he thought it wouldn't hurt to try and get her to expound on that. "What did Murphy do that has the Grounders so interested in harboring him?"

Pax shrugged. "I honestly don't know the little details. Research, experiments, and eventually termination is my guess. You unintentionally saved his ass."

"From you?"

"From them," she rolled her eyes. "I'm just doing my job…" she looked off in the distance shaking her head slightly at what Jasper guessed to be some backstory as to why she was so bitter over 'her job'.

"But, you had to have a choice. Why would they make you?"

Pax looked at him for several seconds, seeming unsure as how to answer him for the first time. "Exactly. Why _would_ they make me?" she sighed again with a hostile bitterness once more.

"I could really care less about Murphy," she said, changing the subject rather quickly. "He was only interesting as an assignment probably because of his background," she looked over to him a few trees away. "Like you all."

Murphy seemed to be unconscious as his neck and body drooped haphazardly. He had actually mentally awoke ages before, now feigning sleep in a customary attempt to hear what she had to say.

Jasper had gotten further with questions than expected. He pushed down the urge to rub it in Bellamy's face. "If…you don't come from the Grounders, then where exactly do you come from?"

She contemplated hastily answering with the truth, or perhaps answering with a subtle smirk.

"Doesn't matter."

"Well sure it matters. If there are two groups we need to be concerned about…"

"Don't be concerned," she replied blandly. "My people have branches. They won't hurt you unless threatened. They have no idea you exist."

"But if you _work_ for them and know everything about us…" Jasper stated.

Pax shrugged, shifting the rough bark against her back. "It's a pocketful of employees that belong to a bigger group—my actual people. We generally stay secluded from the main group and focus on our work."

"They know more about Murphy than a lot of you. So don't get your panties in a bunch," she added.

"How?"

"He's one of the most interesting cases they've had in a long time."

Jasper's head was swimming in questions. He had to at least get to one thing at a time. "Is he the same? After they tortured him...I mean."

"I don't know. Probably not."

"We trusted him at our camp, trying to treat him humanely before he—yeah. I'm surprised he didn't try to put up a fight with you guys."

"That's the difference between us…the Grounders were able to finish a job you weren't. They're not worried about humanity. So," she smirked, "they got what they wanted. Even out of someone like Murphy."

Jasper frowned and shook his head. "We sincerely believed he had changed. Some actor," he mumbled.

Pax let out a loud and bitter laugh. "Oh please. With the Grounders maybe. Like I said, they got the job done. Emotions aside."

Jasper continued to sit there and looked at her with a signature wide-eyed countenance. She suddenly lifted herself up off of the mossy ground, leaving him confused. He stumbled as he got up to follow, wondering why she was being so brazen.

Before she was going to walk over to Bellamy to try and get amusement out of his stiff and protective disposition, she wanted to make something very clear. Something he'd pass on to the others.

"People don't change."

> ~()~()~()~

After so long, Bellamy had gotten sick of Pax's attitude. Not like she didn't expect him to. He had eventually taken Jasper's place in interrogation and got nowhere near what Jasper found out.

In the meantime, Lauren had suggested loosening Pax's bonds, to which Bellamy nearly lost his mind at such an absurd idea. To stand his ground and prove a point, Bellamy took a long shot at taking Murphy's bonds off before he would Pax. He used Murphy's deeply injured leg to justify his decision.

Murphy took a clean advantage of being free and stretched out achy and sore joints as he rolled his eyes and made snarky replies to their strict warnings and supervision. He strolled around the temporary camp, mostly sighing in a mocking contentment as he watched them ignore him with agitated mumbles. It only amused him.

The torment he knew he could get the most out of was from Jasper knowing full well he'd be skittish and entertaining as he tried to kill him a few days before. In Murphy's mind, the fact he held a kid hostage over watching him asphyxiate a kid _in broad daylight_ just didn't register. It wasn't even a matter of knowing he couldn't feel remorse, either. He didn't even try to justify himself with the whole 'I wasn't myself. It was rage' type of excuse. He simply drowned it out of his mind, as his mind was a unique place, and sometimes even just a space filled with static or pain. It wasn't like it never came to mind either; it was just a day gone by for him.

_Bygones_ …right?

It was later in the day as he enjoyed the new freedom that beheld him. He took a walk over by the stream, waddling back and forth on his heels slightly. His arms swung playfully as he approached Jasper bending over by the water gathering some to boil later. Jasper could practically smell Murphy's cocky aura approaching him and rolled his eyes with a soft, scornful sigh as he heard footsteps behind him.

Jasper crouched down, screwing the top on to the canteen he held. "I don't want to fight with you Murphy." His voice came out a bit more nervously than intended as he stared at the boy through the corner of his eyes.

Murphy let out a soft chuckle and spread his legs a little before unzipping his pants and releasing a content sigh as he relieved himself into the stream.

" _We drink_ from there," Jasper said, avoiding turning his head in the direction of the inexplicable crudeness.

Murphy zipped his pants as soon as he finished and walked closer to Jasper, hovering over to him. "Man's just doing his business."

Jasper said nothing and got up from the ground slowly, reluctantly coming face to face with the smirking brown-haired boy. He broke off the eye contact as soon as it came and his eyes softened in the direction of the others.

Murphy suddenly became curious and extremely amused as his eyes followed over to where Jasper was gawking at bashfully. His smirk formed into a grin and Jasper tore his eyes away from the spot, looking at the ground.

"What do you want?" Jasper mumbled.

"I didn't know you had the hots for Pax." His steel blue eyes lit up with a dark excitement.

Jasper said nothing yet became noticeably irritated.

"Oh please," Murphy laughed. "I've seen the way you've been sneaking glances all day. They all do." He strolled casually behind Jasper, averting his attention to the water rifting by in the stream. "It's obvious."

"It—doesn't concern you…" Jasper attempted.

"You're a sucker for girls, you know that?" Murphy got close to his ear and paced back and forth. Jasper was clenching his fists tightly; pushing down the furious frame of mind to come.

Murphy ignored him for the most part. "You know, it really is no wonder Octavia left you for a Grounder—" He was mainly hinting at how naïve and weak he viewed Jasper.

Jasper turned around suddenly and shoved Murphy as hard as he could. It was a quick push that barely knocked him off of his feet, even with the weak condition his thigh was in.

"Shut the hell up!" He practically screamed.

Murphy only laughed in reply at Jasper's pathetic attempt at fighting. It was almost ridiculous how a mention of a significant other just caused people to go off. It was fun to play with. It was good to be back, even temporarily.


	11. Paper People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cute flashback to little Clarke and Bellamy on the Ark. After wearier questioning, Lauren finds something on the back of Holland and decides to take a knife and rip it out. It is seen to be a tracking device and soon blinks out after it is removed. Jones and Bellamy pick her up and push her against a tree, threatening her as she lied to them. She states she is not the enemy. Later, after being bandaged, she and Murphy communicate. Bellamy is frustrated still at the tracking device as they push deeper into the woods. Holland says they are going in the opposite direction they intend to go. Bellamy asks for her advice, as Holland briefly reveals more about the Grounders. Bellamy is curious to save Clarke, Wells, Raven, Abby, Kane, and Miller. Holland asks him why they don’t try to reunite with the Ark group, to which Bellamy can’t answer.

" _Hey watch it!"_

_A young seven-year-old Clarke turned her head back around to see a mildly irritated boy a few years older than her. His dark hair came across his forehead in a slight wisp and he stood his ground by towering over her. The boy placed his hands on his hips and his mouth was parted in such a way that he almost wanted to argue._

" _Sorry, did I run into you?" she asked. Her blue eyes gleamed innocently against the grimy Ark lights._

" _Yeah, you did," he replied, "please watch where you're going next time."_

_The boy turned around to leave, but Clarke found herself going after him, tugging slightly at his sleeve._

" _Wait, aren't you coming to the celebration?"_

_He looked mildly annoyed that she prevented him from leaving. "I can't I have a responsibility."_

" _But it's Unity Day…the day all 12 space stations came together. My mom is on the Council and she says…"_

" _I know what it is," he sighed, "I just have a responsibility I have to go back to. I can't go to the party, I'm sorry."_

_Curiosity overcame Clarke. "What is it?"_

_He hesitated asking her for several moments. The look on her face appeared innocent and blossoming with curiosity. He almost wished he hadn't even left the room, or his sister alone, but he had to go run an errand for his mother while she was working. He figured the blonde in front of him might not leave him alone if he didn't answer her one way or another._

" _If I show you, promise you won't tell anyone?" he sighed. He was taking an enormous risk if her mother was on the Council, but he almost figured she would find out either way._

" _No," Clarke replied softly. "I won't. I trust you."_

_He took her by the hand and began walking in the direction of where his room was. Clarke blinked at him as he did so, wondering why he appeared so nervous and what he could possibly be hiding._

" _I'm Clarke," she said, breaking the silence, "what's your name?"_

" _Bellamy."_

_Clarke nodded, her blonde hair swaying a little in the pigtails her mom made her wear for the day. Bellamy led her through several apartment hallways with people going in and out of their rooms in preparation for the upcoming celebration. He finally arrived at his room and unlocked the door, looking all around before finally leading him and Clarke inside._

_A small girl about a year or two younger than Clarke was on the floor, playing quietly with her stuffed toy._

" _Are you babysitting?" Clarke asked as Bellamy shut and secured the door behind them. "Is that why it was embarrassing for you, Bellamy?"_

_Bellamy put her question aside for several seconds as he rushed over to the girl on the floor and crouched down in front of her. The girl turned her head and looked at Clarke with mysteriously nervous green eyes._

" _Clarke…" Bellamy sighed, pacing himself for the worst. "This is Octavia—my sister."_

_Clarke didn't react for a while. Her mouth was slightly open as her blue eyes remained glazed and glued on the little girl. After so long, she brought her eyes up to meet Bellamy's._

" _That's not legal." Was her inert reply._

_Bellamy got up swiftly and approached Clarke while Octavia scooted further into the corner of the room with a startled stare._

" _Clarke, you tell no one. No one, alright? Do you hear me?"_

" _The Council has to find out. Your mom broke the law—and you know what will happen if they find out?"_

" _I know," he sighed, "I've even told her a million times. We all know."_

_Clarke's eyes remained still on the girl in the corner, scared for her life._

" _Please don't tell," Bellamy pleaded._

" _If they find out, I'll get in trouble too," Clarke started._

_Bellamy got a little closer. "Please. Please don't tell. Not now, not even when we're older."_

_Clarke looked into his dark eyes. They were genuine and sincere that held an unyielding devotion to his sister's protection. Something inside her didn't want to tattle on him; even if it was wrong and against the law to keep a secret like that._

" _I won't," she slightly stuttered, "I promise. I won't."_

" _I want to believe you won't."_

" _I have to go to the celebration. They're probably looking for me," Clarke mumbled._

" _Don't even tell them there," Bellamy warned quickly._

_Clarke began to open the door as she took a final glance at Octavia. "I promise."_

_Bellamy followed her out, keeping the door open a crack as half of his body hid anyone's view of peering inside. A young boy was coming down the hallway dressed in a similar uniform as Clarke's. He was looking down each hallway before seeing Clarke and approaching her with a subtle satisfaction._

" _Come on, Clarke! Let's go! I've been looking for you. My dad's speech will start soon."_

_Clarke took one last look at Bellamy. "Coming, Wells."_

_No more words were said as Bellamy watched the blonde leave with her companion. He wanted to believe her, and trust her, and be her friend. He desperately needed a friend when his whole life consisted of being his sister's keeper. One last glance further down the hallway from Clarke confirmed everything he wanted; trust._

_Bellamy wanted to trust._

* * *

"I'm turning into Clarke, aren't I?" Bellamy sighed, looking at his hands absentmindedly as he stretched his legs on the cool grass.

Lauren contemplated this, having been advising him again for the half past hour. "Not really. You shouldn't compare yourself to her. You're your own person."

"Yeah, but this is something she would do," he frowned, unsure how to handle what influence she had on him, "she would trust them way too much. If she were here, she'd do exactly what I'm doing and then some. She'd care for them, take a gentle approach, and be firm when she had to. God, I hate it."

"Yes. But the girl is talking. She knows more than Murphy. We're at least getting somewhere—give yourself that."

"Where is he anyway? We need to figure out what to do with him. Since you idiots won't let me kill him already," he frowned again, not even bothering to take a look behind him.

"We tied him back up. He was acting suspicious. I think he knows his place for the time being."

Bellamy inwardly gave out a loud "ha" at that statement. "Not earlier. He was harassing Jasper. That bipolar son of a bitch."

Lauren thought for a moment. "You know if he's Pax's business or whatever, do you think we could convince her to make Murphy work for us? Like old times."

Bellamy eyed her strangely. "Even if that did work, he has a mind of his own. I doubt he'd want to be around me more than five seconds."

"Yes, but maybe he could be another soldier for us to get back into Mount Weather."

"That'd be taking a long shot. That's also unrealistic, so no. Forget it."

Lauren shrugged. Any suggestion was worth it. "Well, we also found out something…about Pax."

"What?"

"It's not her name," she sighed, "it's her last name. Everyone just calls her that."

"Then what the hell is her first name? And why is she being called by Pax?"

"Holland. Let's face it; the Grounders didn't strike me as being very sentimental people. They probably refer to her as formally and detached as possible."

"I can see how it rubbed off on her," Bellamy mumbled. He shook his head. "Ever since we let her get up and walk around, she hasn't been too much of an issue. _Yet_."

Lauren remained silent. The two sat there like that until Bellamy wanted to discuss his overall game plan, leaving her to sigh, attempt to offer reasonable advice, and then shrug when he would shoot everything down. He wanted to trust, he just didn't know if he could anymore.

> ~()~()~()~

Holland Pax was stiff from having to sit around while the others were being obvious talking about her and the other captive. She inwardly rolled their eyes at their indecisive dysfunction. Everyone seemed to mold together in keeping her and Murphy alive as hostages until further notice except for their inexorable leader. She didn't much care for Bell-Boy's hotheadedness; he rubbed her the wrong way. But she wasn't remotely threatened by her captors in the least. She'd seen it all and they were a pathetic excuse at being foreboding. They were dysfunctional and mindless. How they didn't predict a chaotic ending to their attempt of "whatever the hell we want" was beyond her. Regardless if they were teens suffering from angst, violence, anger, and other shit…so was she. She'd just shrugged it off and grown up far quicker, seeing what could happen if she didn't. Her childhood was taken.

The fact that John Murphy was captured alongside with her was intriguing. She found a use for him that she hoped the others would pick up on. There would be no way they'd listen to her. Taking appreciation of finally being able to walk around, she had taken the cup of water she was allowed to get herself and made her way over to Murphy. The boy was retied back to the tree, a few yards away from the others, but still in a manageable view.

Holland brushed some stray hair over her shoulder and crouched down, supporting the weight on her feet that kept her bottom side from touching the ground. He looked at her briefly before staring into the distance.

"Nice to see you're being bipolar," she muttered with a quick flip of the brow, "drink this."

"I don't want it," he said hoarsely.

"You're already dehydrated," she said. She attempted to medically explain what would happen if he didn't drink some water, but he merely shook his head in distaste at having to hear her lecture.

"Fine, let your kidneys shut down then for all I care," she spat.

He suddenly reached out his tied hands and yanked the cup from her grasp and into his own. He took a quick, longing gulp from the cup before levering it back away from his dry lips and into his lap.

He noticed her staring at his face, eyes searching all over. He flinched slightly, becoming a bit self-conscious as he figured she was observing the coating of scars on his face. Her face remained stoic as her brows and lips furrowed a millimeter in disapproval.

"Your eyes are still dilated. They drugged you."

She suddenly took both hands on each side of his face, lowering his head as she took a look at the top.

"They knocked you out."

He cleared his throat almost inaudibly. "Why are you concerned?"

Holland only raised an eyebrow in slight surprise before maneuvering her way over to sit next to him. Murphy almost wanted to ask her why but found no interest in arguing, so allowed her company while giving a quick, skeptical look.

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied blandly, "you're only an assignment I came back to retrieve."

He blinked a little. "Why am I that important?"

"You're welcome for keeping them from killing you," she said quickly with a slight chuckle, "because if you weren't taken, and I wasn't assigned to you, then you'd be dead."

A thank you wasn't the first thing that was usually in Murphy's vocabulary. "Thank you," he managed. It came out personalized in a mildly sarcastic tone.

She looked at him briefly before turning away. "You want to make a break for it, don't you?"

Murphy stared back at her, looking more incredulous and defensive than intended. He opened his mouth slightly before closing it and turning away.

"I wouldn't," she added, "if you have any interest in staying alive then your best bet is to stay here." She took out the dagger she brought with her and cut the bonds around his waist and hands. The skin was rubbed raw, but still usable.

"Bellamy will kill me," he spat, rubbing his wrists.

"Not with me around," she turned at him coolly, "also, don't try anything. I'll kill you too if necessary. You're not off the hook."

"You just defended me," he said slowly with a small scoff, "whose side are you on?"

"My own." Was her simple reply. Murphy shut up for a couple of minutes, enjoying the awkward silence of her company as they both had sounds of nature and the wind fill their ears. Holland was noticeably calmer.

"Why would you help me, then?" Murphy's voice came out hoarse, breaking the silence with a crack.

"Because everyone's different; you're different. I understand everything that happened to you; camp and Ark. I had to be briefed with information from all one hundred of you." Holland bit her lip. "Reading all that shit isn't the most desirable job, sometimes it's hard, but I had to do it."

She turned to look at him, almost with a challenging undertone. "Don't doubt what I know about you," she added. It was a calm, yet firm reply. She offered empathy while still keeping her distance from delving into the realm of sympathizing with a cold murderer.

Murphy said nothing.

"Why is my friend John there, huh?" he hissed suddenly, "explain that if you know everything."

Holland wasn't surprised in the least. She already knew he had been listening to all the info she had given their captors.

"No one retrieved his body in that current situation, so it was easy to fake his death. We offered him a better deal than what Bell-Boy had in mind."

"Besides," she shifted a little, "after you got kicked out, most of your friends abandoned you. I would think you'd like to kill them after that."

"They were there for me," he said quietly, bitterly, "I don't know why they'd want to be kicked out with me. I wasn't thinking about them."

Holland wasn't trying to change his mind about keeping them alive, so she remained silent by not furthering the questioning.

"You're traumatized," Holland stated, "the best thing for you right now is to listen to me. Whether you may like it or not."

Murphy wanted to scoff at her audacity to make him listen to her. A total stranger; one who had too much of a businesslike aura about her than he'd been comfortable with. She was emotionless and placid until provoked, and then she became firm by raising her voice into a livid tone of charming chilliness. He almost was unsure if she had much emotion at all. The life seemed to be drained from her distant eyes.

"What's your suggestion?" he sighed dryly.

Her lips played into a slight, distant smirk. "You were a fantastic henchman for a short while. Bell-Boy needed you as a guns-a-blazing right hand man. This time, I suggest history repeat itself. He doesn't seem to be moving in his decision for us to go back to Mount Weather, so we're going to need as much help as we can."

"A soldier…?"

"Exactly," she retorted confidently, "whatever relationship you two have right now, he's going to need you. I don't care if you both want to kill each other. Figure something out."

Murphy looked at her before sighing. "God, you're unbelievable. First go and have people beat me up some more, break two of my fingers, and then have them clean me up, drug me, let me escape only for me to be captured again. And now you're trying to help me—like nothing happened?" he scowled. "I don't think so."

She shrugged. "Alright. Nice knowing you," she waved it off, "by the way, I was only in charge of interrogating you. Nothing else."

Murphy sighed in irritation. "Look…just…stay out of it."

"It's too late for that," she contrived a surprised expression, "you want to live? Listen to me."

Murphy all but appreciated her attempts at molding him into someone he wasn't. Holland was merely keeping her guard up and her foot down; she knew how to handle him. Her hazel eyes briefly caught Bellamy's in the distance. She knew they were watching her from afar. It didn't matter. She was going to get her way one way or another, and they would have to listen.

> ~()~()~()~

Bellamy and Jones threw Holland roughly on the ground, rendering her stagnant for several moments before adjusting to a sitting position. Jones rushed over as she did so and quickly tied the rope securely around her and the tree. She was now restricted from hardly any movement or emotion other than shock as the blood around her neck dried into a rust color. It was running its way down the front of her neck in streaks.

Lauren had noticed a black mark on the back of her neck earlier when she pulled up her hair to bend down for a drink of water. Holland was quickly attacked from behind and had her neck cut open by Lauren, tearing it out. It was a small incision that would leave her bleeding for a short while, but not dead.

"I'm not playing games!" Bellamy yelled, pointing a finger as to show his authority. He held the blood-stained tracker chip in his hand, throwing the thing with full force into the mud. Its light to show a proper signal promptly was disconnected as it lost contact with its host's spinal cord.

"I'm not either," Holland said jadedly.

"Then what the hell is a tracking chip for, huh? Really thought we're that stupid?"

"It's a nice little souvenir we all have to be implanted with. It was just a coincidence…"

"You shut up!" Bellamy interrupted her excuses. He motioned for Finn to come closer and was given a belt. "I will use this if I have to."

Holland was incredibly disbelieving that someone like him would ever have enough gall to hit a woman. Yelling, arguing, and asserting dominance? Yeah, that was understood. Hitting and torture—not so much. Still, she didn't egg him on for fear of being proven wrong.

"Tell me everything you know; the Grounders, your people, Murphy, where and how my people are. Everything!" Bellamy roared. His fist was clenching the belt tightly.

She pursed her lips into a frown, feigning emotion for a split second. "If I tell you, then you'll know too much and I'll have to kill you."

He could hardly believe she was threatening to kill him. "I don't want to kill you, Bell-Boy," she added, "if you give me the chance to explain before just threatening me, then maybe we'll actually get somewhere."

"I swear if you even—"

"Hey, hey, hey." Bellamy was reserved by Finn's hand on his upper arm with a motherly, disapproving look.

"Let her talk, Bellamy," Lauren said firmly. She was tired and just wanted to see something done without the leader butting in.

Holland so much as glanced before giving a haughty eye roll. "I guess I could start with what all I know about you guys…"

"We already know." Bellamy suddenly became curious with something else. "Why were you talking to Murphy? Plotting? Or are you two just close now? Because you sure as hell know how to handle him."

"I would prefer the term neutral."

"He's dangerous."

She sighed. "As much as you want him to be, yeah. Everybody's different. To think people would try to understand that. But the kid has PTSD probably as much as any of us, if not more. He's been through more than you know."

"I can't believe you're defending him." Bellamy gave a deep sigh and rubbed the forming headache away.

"I'm not," she replied coolly.

"He's dangerous, cruel, evil, vengeful, psychotic…" Bellamy's list could go on.

"Because you made him that way!" It was the first time Holland's voice had rose into a deep, firm tone. "I had nothing to do with what they did to him. Interrogate, rile him up? That's about it. The Grounders are in charge of physical rulings for me. If he's mad at anyone, he's mad at the people who physically abuse him much less the rest of you delinquents for throwing in some emotional disarray. When they threw him back to your camp, they weren't done with him. You people practically waved the bait in front of his face and didn't have any common sense whatsoever. You all were idiots to just threaten to kill him in front of him, treat him more like shit. With the way he is? No damn wonder he killed Connor and Myles."

The group stood there silent for a couple moments, registering all of that information with a new sense of fear gripping their eyes.

Bellamy shifted the weight on his feet. "How do you know all of this?"

Holland seemed to calm down slightly, voice and all. "You had a few unwanted guests people were too stupid to notice were there."

Bellamy said nothing. The brunette girl then raised an eyebrow.

"What? You didn't think Mt. Weather was going to see a huge drop ship fall from the sky without investigating, did you?"

"We would have known if Grounders were in our camp, thank you very much—"

"No. Not Grounders. Kids. Your own age. They blended in fairly well and gave us more than we needed to know."

"Well?" Bellamy said, "if they're working for you, then they're bound to do some more work."

"No," she sighed, "they're mad at me. Micah and Jerome. They took off not too long ago. I wouldn't worry about them too much. Unless, you know, they find me, and I'm with you. Then I'd be kind of scared."

Jones recognized that name. "Micah? He was in our camp. I remember him," he stated.

"They're dangerous and psychotic," Holland retorted.

"How dangerous are we talking about?"

Holland took a deep breath and hesitated a moment.

"Let's just say, Micah makes Murphy look fuzzy and cuddly," she replied sourly, "the kid is psychotic to the next level. You think Murphy's bad? Pray to god above you never meet this kid. He doesn't play with your mind—if he does then it's still only seconds before death."

"He could have killed us then," Bellamy spat.

"No, he isn't that way unless provoked. I told him off about something and ever since he wants to kill me. Apparently I'm wanted," she rolled her eyes with a mutter of the breath.

Finn wanted to change the subject and back up a couple sentences. He had been a good listener this whole time.

"Woah, wait. You said the Grounders weren't done with Murphy."

Holland directed her attention to Spacewalker with an intent gaze. "Yes. What about it?"

"If that's the case then won't they come after you?" Bellamy asked.

"I may be important," she said, "but I'm not that important. After so long they'll just replace me if I don't come back or show up."

"What about your people that are working with the Grounders?" Jasper asked.

"What about them? They're the real founders of Mount Weather and they plan to stay there," she licked her lips slightly, "they were the ones who saved your people's asses. They decided to break up the petty cat fighting between you and the Grounders. So if anything, I would nearly thank them for keeping the survivors of you guys alive in containment."

In itself, the identity of who her people were was almost too perfect. The square peg and round hole concept no longer applied as she stared at each of them expectantly.

" _The Mountain Men_?" Finn breathed. He looked at her, "they're your people?"

"I thought it would be obvious," she stated with a small click of the tongue. "And they aren't just homeless people in the wilderness, either. We have a load more technology. Maybe more than you had on the Ark."

It was a pretty glossy statement, but judging by the look on their faces, she assumed they were having trouble processing the obvious.

"You want to go back and rescue your people? You can't. Not like this."

A snip was heard from behind the tree she was tied around and the ropes fell nimbly to the moss-covered floor. Murphy stepped from behind it smugly yielding a knife.

Bellamy charged before being held back. "What the hell is he doing free?"

Holland stood up, grateful to be on her feet again, and brushed the rope off of her waist. "I let him go."

"Are you insane? Jones, do it now," Bellamy ordered. Jones stood there frozen. "Jones! Shoot them! We warned them!"

Holland stood there with crossed arms. "As I was saying…if you want to get back to your people, you're going to need _both_ of us alive. Murphy's going to be your soldier again like old times."

"I'm not working with that bastard!"

Murphy scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm not thrilled to work with you either."

"He has a limp and two broken fingers," Jones stated, "how is he going to be much help?"

"Finn has a deeply injured knee, my neck is bleeding out," Holland rolled her eyes, "injuries are pretty minor for what they could be. It'll have to do."

Bellamy sighed hesitantly. "Okay. So what do we do your highness?"

Holland scoffed. "The way that I overheard you guys wanted to head is the wrong way. We'd be traveling in the opposite direction we intend to go. I don't know why we'd want to go back to a cave if your camp is empty. You're limited with supplies, so let me take care of that."

"Alright, what are you suggesting?"

Holland took a few steps past them, pointing to make a clear direction. "Over there is the opposite direction from both your camp and the back path to Mount Weather; where you guys attempted to walk into. We go that way and we'll find Noma's house. She's a friend of Lincoln's."

"You know Lincoln?" Finn asked. He was almost relieved to hear it.

She shrugged. "The guy's infamous with them. With you and I? He's a decent ally."

"Why?" Finn asked again, hoping to get an answer out of her than when he asked Lincoln before. "Why would he help us?"

"He's a good guy. He keeps faith in people and has good morals. Total opposite of the Grounder's main values," she said. She bit her lip. "We may not seem like it, but we're not the enemy. Come on."

Bellamy took a step forward. "Woah, wait. How do we know you're not sending us into a trap?"

Murphy took a few limping steps over by Holland, standing beside her in support.

"You don't," she replied coolly. "But you have to trust me. You want your lover back? Follow me."

"We _still need people_ , lots of them. We're outnumbered," Bellamy said. He would never admit he had to find it out the hard way.

Holland's eyes shifted in a quick glance at the rest of them. "Why don't you get your Ark people to help you? If it means that much to get an army."

Bellamy wasn't sure how to answer. The image of Jaha came to mind. "We don't know if hundreds of them made it, or ten. Why don't _you_ tell _me_?"

She sighed softly. "There's a lot they keep from me. I don't know everything," she turned her back in the direction she wanted to go, "We'll talk more when we get to her house."

Lauren was the first to brush past Bellamy as she headed to follow the two captives. "I'll bandage her neck when we get there," she sighed. Jasper and Monty followed side-by-side after. Jones went as well.

Finn and Bellamy both gave each other a warning look before Finn broke it off and followed after the others. Bellamy followed last, mumbling before stopping himself. If he was going to be anything like Clarke, then he was going to have to trust people. And a reluctant trust he would obtain.


	12. Forest Woes

Raven sat up in her bed, struggling to keep the hot soup from pouring into her lap as she spooned its contents into her mouth. Her lips were dry and cracked with the tremors of survival that had been inflicted. Abby was standing nobly by, waiting for a moment where Raven needed assistance.

"I've been talking with the officials here," Abby said, clearing her throat a bit.

Raven took a brief glimpse at the black sphere that hovered above the door. "Maybe we should watch what we're saying."

"I was in the surveillance room…they can see us but they can't hear us."

"What'd you find out?" Raven blew a cooling breath onto the spoon before letting it enter her mouth.

"I didn't really _find out_ anything," Abby replied with a sense of melancholy, "but they're allowing me more medical freedom than I did back on the Ark. So I was thinking…how about I pay you back? I found some old prosthetics in one of the rooms and I—"

"—Abby, no. You've already done enough," Raven insisted, "it's just an arm."

Abby's eyes glinted with that unmistakable obsession with hope. "If we're going to find out more about this place and work on getting out of here then I think my mechanic needs two arms."

Raven couldn't help but let her lips play into a smirk, catching on to the idea that offered an opportunity for adventure and mechanics that she just couldn't pass up.

"Alright," Raven decided, "so you're thinking of hiring me again?"

"Just like old times," Abby said, briefly permitting a small smile. A few seconds passed before Abby took the bowl of soup and placed it next to her on the nightstand.

"Good," Raven said, "I was getting sick of staring at this room anyway. They aren't much for interior decorating."

> ~()~()~()~

Kane stood with an incomparable amount of awe at having seen all the Grounders and Mt. Weather officials had put together to call a facility. Perhaps it was his hidden respect and amazement of nature that bound him into finding solace in the placement of a structured power agenda—one that the officials crafted obviously. He was separated from the slim chance of seeing if his daughter was there with the rest of the individuals, as well as being separated from Abby. There were no denying stirred emotions at that point. After so long, the rattling door of his cell had opened, revealing a pair of Grounders staring at him through masked faces.

A figure had appeared from behind them, seeming out of place compared to their towering frames. It was a man in his sixties, with pale ivory skin and white thinning hair. He held his hands behind his back, offering a taller appearance to his rather average height. The deep cobalt and lavender Grounder robe he wore covered a somewhat shabby shirt, leather pants, and boots. His face portrayed one of familiar stoutness that stared down at the vermin called Kane with an elite sense of authority. His hands peered from beneath his back and motioned the guards away to fetch something. Kane's eyes remained locked on the man before him with an intense curiosity. The man took a step forward before being interrupted by his minions picking Kane from the floor like a rag doll and shoving him in the direction of the hallway.

Kane couldn't help but allow his eyes and head to wander in every direction but straight ahead, earning him with a kick to the back of the knee by the Grounders leading him away from the prison cells. He stumbled forwards with a grunt and gained his footing again with nimbleness. Their pacing increased, and Kane found himself quickly thrown down into a private room with comfortable furnishings and a long business-like table in the center. He was forced to sit down and the man who stood before him minutes ago had entered the room last, motioning for the guards to leave them to privacy.

Kane sat in the plush chair at the end of the table, watching as the mysterious man wandered off to an end table at the other end, pouring himself a drink into one of the shot glasses.

"What would you like? We've got rum, whiskey, wine, and can't forget scotch." The man held up his glass in a cheering fashion, allowing a lively smile to accommodate to his taut and aging face.

Kane remained seated, befuddled at how undiscerning the man's appearance was until he opened his mouth, revealing a rather proper yet calm demeanor.

The man turned around, leaning casually on the table. "We've also got water, juice, pop. Earth-like luxuries, right?" The man took a seat, mouth slightly opened as he stared at Kane's expectantly.

"Alright," he shrugged, "suit yourself." The man took a small sip of his scotch and set it down on the table. His hands were folded as if to conduct a proper meeting, but not without his company's approval first.

"Why are you doing this?" Kane breathed. The words were out of his mouth with an exhale of air before he could stop himself.

"Are you talking about my industry itself or the inhabitants who run it? They're not my first choice, either."

Kane seemed slightly stumped with agitation. "I'm talking about why the hell these kids are locked up in this nightmare of a prison and why you all are so intent on keeping us here if we know nothing."

"Oh, but you do know something," the man's light eyes flashed darkly before straightening, "please, I don't want us to get off on the wrong foot, Marcus. So let's get these petty introductions out of the way—my name is Dante Wallace. Mount Weather is in my command from savages that you've seen running around this place. But make yourself comfortable. I refurbished that chair you're sitting in."

Kane didn't know what exactly he meant in terms of 'savages' so he said nothing.

"I saved you," he sighed with a touch of depravity, "it may seem like a prison on the surface, but really, compared to the dangers that await you out there—this is paradise." He held out his arms, spinning in his chair slightly as he offered a clever smirk at what he considered to be luxuries.

"I don't want your offer," Kane said lowly, "I want those kids back to me, safe and sound, so I can return them to what families they have left."

"I think you're biting off more than you can chew, Marcus. These kids are doing work that my employees are becoming too short to come by. They have a purpose," he took another sip of scotch, "unless your people would like to join us."

Kane leaned forward slightly. "I heard what all you know about us. I heard people being interrogated, and tortured, and some of them sounded like the same voices of kids on the Ark. How the hell is that a purpose? Explain to me everything—how do you know all of this?"

"What do you have to offer them? Wreckage and other rubbish while a dysfunctional Council tries to run a group full of lost and disorientated people?"

Dante got up from his seat and back over the end table behind him. He flipped another glass over and poured another glass from the same bottle of scotch he had been drinking from. He took a noble stride over to Kane and placed it in front of him before walking on the other side, away from the door.

"For good measure," Dante stated, "to calm you down a bit."

Kane stared at the glass and shook his head in disbelief. Dante stood with his arms folded behind his back, staring absentmindedly at the complete map of Virginia that took up most space on the wall.

"I don't understand why you people have to be so cruel," Kane stated with his bound hands held out in protest as his head turned slightly in the direction of the foreboding man.

Dante gave a slight chuckle, still facing the map. "Cruel, evil, malicious, downright satanic…any other words seem trivial, don't they? Maybe you'll realize that this institution has been here for generations, taken over for a good measure to ensure structure and survival. Your friends in containment don't know anything better. A good amount of enforcement is beneficial if we want to keep the human race going…"

He traced his long finger over the red marker that had clearly labeled their current location on the vast map. A few sparse, smaller, black markers were placed on sites that seemed relevant to other connections, such as Grounders, the Ark camp, the Hundred camp, and places of remote interest. He turned around suddenly in a trance of vague amusement at such common description other unwanted guests had supplied his ears with.

"We're done here," Dante stated, walking over to the door and opening it in an ironically polite fashion for Kane, "as a Commander and elected official, it's my duty to do what I think right. I thought we'd at least be on the same page."

Kane stood up reluctantly, taking deliberate steps over to Dante by the doorway. He stopped in his tracks, staring the older man down with an unmatched amount of hidden hostility that was barred between the two.

"We are not alike," Kane spat. Being in the room with the man for five minutes gave him a sense of urgent disapproval to leave him uneasy for ages. He briefly allowed his eyes to glance outside to see guards waiting patiently to escort him back to his cage. He turned his attention back to the intense glaring session between light and dark eyes.

He took a few steps out the door, turning around to offer a tighter lockdown between eye contact. Dante made a signal for the guards to stop as he wanted to retaliate with final words.

"You've kept detrimental secrets from your people. I hope you come to terms with that, Kane."

> ~()~()~()~

Jaha stood before the wreckage of people, watching hopelessly as he scanned the vast amount of people who remained latched to the charred remains of what was once their home. The wilderness offered a frightening and jarring terror to be unknown for most as the survivors kept bound together inside the closed spaces of the ship. Dr. Jackson took a few steps next to him, careful not to trip over some rubble that lay at their feet. He looked at Jaha expectantly and back at the locked direction the old Chancellor was staring in.

"There's nothing left," Jaha breathed. His eyes became watery as his face put up a front he couldn't let through.

Dr. Jackson put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure Abby and Kane are doing what they can to find the others."

Jaha gave a bitter chuckle. "You know, Sergei Ushakov came to me earlier asking where his son—the youngest member of the prisoners, was. Then some others came, wondering what our next move was to find their daughter—who they haven't seen in _six years_. I don't have the heart to tell these people that their children are lost or—" He struggled to keep the words from coming out choked.

"Hey," Dr. Jackson said, "don't beat yourself up. We're alive. We're survivors."

"But we're not alone," he wiped a stray tear away, "the kids said it themselves. There's so much they know that we don't."

Dr. Jackson gulped at the obvious bundle of emotional distress next to him. He took a deep breath. "They still look to you to be their Chancellor."

"No," Jaha said, finally looking at the man next to him with more bitter tears making their way down his face, "not if we sent two Council members to go search for their children first. It's biased, it's wrong. And they know it."

He wanted to be with his son. But his people needed him.

Dr. Jackson said nothing and watched at the littered and filthy remains of people wandering around like lost souls searching for a purpose. Half of their kids were dead or missing, and the two survivors of the Ark could have suffered the same fate. Thelonious was correct; it was wrong to be biased, but it was always wrong to stand around and do nothing. The slippery slope was on course for an eventful new start on the amazingly cruel new world before them—Earth. This was Earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also Holland=Pax and Pax=Holland. When coming up with a unique name I couldn't decide between the two so her first name is Holland and her last name is Pax. Holland Pax. She'll be referred mostly by Holland from here until the end, though.
> 
> So, I realize the writers have signed on a "Dante Wallace" as an incremental recurring part of Season 2, so here is my initial thought of how he will be. I'm keeping him this way, parallel in my story, even when Wednesday comes around. Got it? Cool, love ya.


	13. Stripped Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the main group~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I the only one who thinks the theme song for Season 1 should be "Major Tom" by Shiny Toy Guns? No? Well, okay. That's the theme song for this chapter anyway.
> 
> Also if anyone is wondering, the season is summer (mid June) for this story so far as opposed to late fall on the actual show. Let's just pretend it was around April when the 100 arrived and I think it'd be more plausible if a month or two passed as opposed to 1-2 weeks. Just humor me.
> 
> Pretty straightforward. For anyone who is wondering, my OC/other OCs have little to do with hardly anything. The story is not centered on them. I do not plan for it to go in that direction. I am simply offering a development as another main character out of about 13 or so canons already in the show. I try to represent everyone equally without going overboard. Cool beans? Love you.

_Perhaps it was the dread that kept Abby up all night, rather than reminiscing to the day before when her husband took his last breath. Maybe it was seeing Clarke's face; her blue eyes reflecting her father's lifeless ones to resembling nothing more than a shiny black marble. Or it could have even be trauma...denial. The reluctant persona seemed to outdo the headstrong doctor._

_Maybe it was even more denial at being at Mount Weather, patrolling the heavily armed and secured hallways where she could practically feel her heart clench at what she knew was horrifying operations. Biological engineering of viruses and other uses for bio warfare, the torture bestowed upon the Hundred for not complying with strict, cruel, emotionless rules. It was a militaristic dystopia; a dictatorship. It could have even seeing the mechanic who allowed her one last chance at seeing if Clarke was alive out of pure selfishness, really. And because of her, Raven was abused, dragged into it all, and lost an arm for saving everyone else's ass. Perhaps her own selfishness forced Abby to realize that giving back a temporary limb just to allow her access to see her beloved daughter again safe and sound was the true reason for her actions. There was no going back now. Abby was a leader; determined, brave, and selfless. Or at least she tried to be. Through flaws, lost lives, and bloodied tears, Abby was going to get them to be a home again._

_This was her home._

* * *

 

"How much longer 'til your friend's house? We're exhausted." Bellamy had stopped in his tracks as Holland moved swiftly ahead, looking around with subtle knowledge about paths and nature. Murphy had been limping by her side ahead of them, showing signs of disinterest and emotionless procedures as he trudged along.

Holland's eyes darted around still after she had stopped and stood up straight. She turned around slowly, showing her unmistakable stare. "We're here."

The answer in itself led a reluctant Bellamy to scoff with the others around him as he saw no signs but a steep incline to god-knows-where and two dishonest pieces of shit in front of him. Really, he had a lot to be impressed about yet. Whether it be the fact the two hostage-now-leaders were being chummy that bothered him or the impending arrival of doubt to rescue his friends, he did not know.

Finn and Bellamy exchanged brief eye contact before Spacewalker broke it off with a hasty scratch to the back of his neck. His wobbling footsteps quickened their pace as he took steps up the incline to meet Holland and Murphy. Bellamy watched in slight disgust as the others brushed past him as if he carried daunting power to overrule them for preference in leaders. Not that one could call Holland or Murphy leaders, anyway. It still led him to ponder where he went wrong. Maybe if he had somehow cajoled Octavia to stay in his shelter then she would be there with them, oblivious to Jasper's advances and focusing her defenses to her brother. She would no doubt be a new leader for them all.

Besides everything, he had no choice. The few weapons they had he made damn sure they were in his undivided sight. He took disdainful steps up the hill, shouting slighting curses inside of his head. He met with them and rested in a slight sway as sodden boots met lush grass of the incline. The incline had as much of a steep decline on the other side as expected, and met in a small bend to where a man-made path of sandy dirt led to the derelict and cracking foundation of a mediocre cabin. It was big enough for three people tops, he decided.

"A cabin," Bellamy murmured, "how the hell does this help us?"

His projective blaming came onto Holland's face with a slight surprise. She already figured whatever she tried to do to help the weakened group would be shot down with a negative reprimanding from the king. At least, that was her impression of his royal highness.

She did not answer and was relieved when someone else had spoken for her.

"It helps us against fog," Finn reasoned, "it's shelter. Food. Warmth. We could use it right now."

Bellamy took a hitched sigh and dismissed Finn's remark. "Whose house is this?"

"Noma's," Holland replied, "she's hardly ever home, but she trusts me enough to let me use her house when needed."

Bellamy took a few steps closer. "Woah, wait. You gave me the impression that she'd be here."

"I never said that. Didn't really imply it either."

"Where the hell is she?" Jones asked with a skeptical expression.

"Out," Holland replied bluntly, "probably back in her and Lincoln's home village. She isn't too much of an extrovert so she resides here when she needs to get away."

Eyes observed the cabin's structure and observantly decided that it was in need of severe repair. The windows were boarded up mainly by rags and rusted over windows that looked like vaults from nearly two hundred years before. It was simplistic and rustic and held more ambiguous, sentimental value than anything.

"I mean, do you have a better idea?" Holland asked with hand extended, "we camp out here and figure out our motives."

Bellamy was visibly unhappy with her moodiness, but decided against protests. "Okay, fine. But don't get carried away. We will stay up all night if we have to…we're figuring something out."

Holland made a settling nod and made her way to the dingy and rotting wood door that was nearly sideways from its hinges. The door was unlocked based off of its ability for the knob to turn with ease and a few shoves and nudges later, it opened to reveal a dark and warm welcome to the interior. Murphy hobbled in quickly after and made a beeline to an old wine-colored colored couch with fabric hanging off in plush rips. The dim light from the grimy and reflective windows allowed enough light to see that the main room of the cabin was just as dark and old as the outside. Cozy furnishings of a couch and two small chairs were in the center of the room, cramped in a way to remove itself from a close encounter with the kitchen in the corner. The gas stove seemed to emit an internal coldness as the fridge and counter tops promised a slightly happier presence of color. The tables a few feet behind the couch were cluttered with junk, papers, books, and other scrap pieces of a world that existed long before their time.

Finn was the last to enter and struggled slightly to shut the misshapen door into place behind them. Everyone seemed mildly impressed at the realization that _it was a house_. _Someone from the old world_ _inhabited it_ long before and left scrapings of interest behind.

Holland had silently shooed Murphy off of the couch as she began to push the couch back before it ran into a firm and heavy wood table. The fire pit in the dead center of the room was almost invisible as the natural color of smoke and ash painted it with the shadows of the floor. Holland hovered to the back where she retrieved a stack of old newspapers and dropped them into the fire pit. The others watched her curiously as she stepped into the kitchen, reached into an old drawer, and whipped out a box of matches to start the fire. There was no doubt the darkness of the cabin was ten degrees cooler than the humidity of high tree coverings outside. The cabin in its entirety provided a feeling of loneliness and comfort all the same.

Everyone seemed to be exploring the back of the cabin on their own, leaving a few to hover around the fire pit and rest weary and injured bones on the furnishings. Jasper and Monty quietly moved around the interior slowly without wanting to get involved with too many discussions. Lauren took a quick seat next to Holland and began to push some hair behind her shoulder to inspect the cut she had obtained earlier.

"First you almost slice the back of my neck open and now you're healing that same wound," Holland remarked blandly, letting her hands warm around the fire. "I don't get you people," she decided.

The familiarity hit Murphy suddenly with a pang. Hearing her voice utter those words seemed nearly shocking to him for a reason he couldn't explain. Flashbacks rendered him into a regression of silence as his expression darkened in the ginger flames. The torture, the interrogation, the cloth from Clarke's hands onto his bloodied appendages. But who would dare give him resilience for the past? Bitterness would take over his night, he decided. Too many things were reminders.

"There are clothes in the back." The exclamation from Jones initiated everyone's attention to the back of the cabin where they met a surprised expression peering out from half of a doorway.

"Good, we'll need some," Bellamy said. His sudden presence brought about fright as a few moments of silence made people forget he was even there.

" _Formal_ clothes," Holland corrected. She bit back a groan as a stinging alcohol met her neck with a cool cloth.

"Why can't we use those?" Bellamy asked.

"What the hell are those doing here?" Jones asked rhetorically before removing his body completely out of sight and into the supposed room of clothes once more.

Holland spun her head around to meet Bellamy towering over the couch. "This cabin was used for dances back in the day. Unless you want to be a reformed Ricky Ricardo or Marilyn Monroe, I would suggest leaving those things alone."

"Why would Noma have all this stuff?" Monty inquired suddenly from his spot near a bookshelf. His hands were full of old sewing parts. "Is she a seamstress?"

"Bingo," Holland said. "She's middle aged and widowed…effective time usage."

"And she's a friend of Lincoln's?" Jasper asked, walking closer to the center couch.

"Yes."

"Wouldn't it be helpful to ask for her help in all this?" Jasper asked, resting his hands on the empty chair in front of him. "It sure wouldn't hurt."

Holland eyed him doubtfully. "She's old, small, and weak. What could she do physically? Even so, the whole point of her coming out here is so she is purposefully oblivious of the savagery her people and the workers at Mount Weather do. She doesn't want to be involved with that shit."

Bellamy gave Jasper a similar look and Jasper's eyes wandered to the ground before shrugging. "Doesn't hurt to throw out _any_ idea."

Bellamy took a stride over to the chair on the other side of the fire pit across from Jasper and mimicked leaning his body weight onto the back of it. "What I want to know is how the hell Noma or any of all of this could possibly help us. Jones over there and Spacewalker both have weapons we aren't afraid to have to discipline you with."

"I'm getting to that," Holland replied with a glare.

"I'm not shitting around—"

"And I'm not either," Holland snipped, "just let me get a damn word in."

Bellamy took an uncomfortable shifting of body weight onto the chair as he reluctantly opened his ears to the bull he knew she would spew out. Jasper took a haphazard walk into the kitchen where he would find a reason to leave himself out of the discussion and into a safe zone of sorts. The air was too tense.

"As I was saying, your buddy Jasper is right," she retorted, "it doesn't hurt to at least try and throw out ideas. So what if I brought you here because of my idea?"

Bellamy tilted his head up slightly in an observing glance.

"Those clothes back there are for a reason, and you couldn't have timed things more perfectly," Holland continued, wiping some sweat from her palms onto her jeans.

"So, you planned this?" Bellamy drawled.

"Coming here? Yes. The whole ordeal and time of year? No. Getting to the root of rescuing your friends is one thing, suicide is another. You chose suicide…clearly. But I'm here to say that because I am a ticket for you to go in and get your friends, I am also a target. Just to let you know," she paused, "I get you don't care. But truthfully, you should care. I die, everyone dies. Bringing me into a crazy notion that an upcoming nightly celebration at Mount Weather could just be your ride into saving your princess."

"They don't _have fun_ ," Bellamy motioned, "they are hardly what you could call sophisticated."

"The Grounders aren't. The workers at the facility are. What better way to kick off the summer than a party? Collaboration at its finest. Can't all be business 24/7, right?"

Bellamy took a deep sigh and gestured in protest. "Hold up. You're actually suggesting we dress up for a dumbass party and expect to rescue our friends somehow?"

"Better than your idea," Holland pursed her chapped lips, "I mean obviously you have no idea at how many numbers you'd be taking on with what—a max of 25 or 30 of your people? They have 21st century weapons, technology, and maybe even slightly more advanced efficiency. Multiply the difficulty you had with the Grounders by about four."

"No way in hell," Bellamy argued.

"That's not a bad idea," Lauren snapped with a thoughtful tilt of her head, "considering the luck we think we have…Bellamy…this is all we've got."

"That bastard still isn't off the hook," Bellamy motioned to Murphy suddenly, "and besides, I don't like how chummy you're being with them right now."

"I don't have a choice, really," Murphy muttered suddenly, looking in a modest stare at the bloodied tips of where his nail beds used to be.

"Damn right you don't," Bellamy growled. Instinct hurled him in the direction of Murphy to rip him off of the couch and beat him senseless. An all-too reasonable Jasper decided to intervene and hold him back the best he could.

"Kill him or not, it doesn't make a difference," Jasper reasoned. He released his grip around a huffing Bellamy's shoulders as everyone gave their attention to his announcement. "We can't afford to waste our time being hung up on the past, Bellamy. Our—opinions—of him right now are irrelevant. We need all the help we can get. Sneak into the party, disguise ourselves, keep our guard up, we have _no choice_ but to trust Holland."

Bellamy rubbed his temples and glanced in the direction of the kitchen for hope of some alcohol lying around on the counters. He took a weary seat into the creaky and worn chair with a sigh. He wasn't ready to die, but he certainly had no chance in putting up a fight. He had to be on his own side now.

Holland was satisfied with a majority of people complying and turned her head around to see Jones was carrying two items of clothing from the back and making his way towards them.

"So this is our plan?" Jones raised a brow, holding up a pair of somewhat new dresses. "Oh, and the guys' apparel is in the other room."

"I can't say I like this…but it's worth a shot," Finn explained reluctantly.

Murphy, surprisingly, seemed the most hesitant of this idea considering his recent injuries and tortured mindset. His skeptical and empty gray eyes met Holland's stern hazel before breaking it off out of habit.

"I want elaboration. We're staying up all night if we have to," Bellamy barked, giving a scornful look in the direction of Holland. "How the hell this'll work without them recognizing us is beyond me."

Holland met his glance with an unblinking and dark smirk. "Oh, gladly. Don't you worry, Bell-Boy. I didn't plan on going without informing _you_ of details."

The night was long and weary, at times maybe tense and angry as arguments were thrown around back and forth across the room in waves. Other times the silence kept a tired emptiness as the crackling of paper and fire in the pit gave off radiant hues against agitated faces.

The papers in the fire were gnawed off and its white textures were stripped away as the embers incinerated them into ash. A physical transformation—not a chemical one. Strangely, the tiny teeth of fire couldn't remove the invisible chemical properties of the paper itself, but simply alter it into another appearance. The paper would always be paper. Words would be gone, but they would exist in memory as the old pictures of faces in a few of the newspapers crinkled away into brown remnants that dissipated into smoke.


	14. Therefore I Am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashbacks into Murphy's life on the Ark.

The cries of a newborn baby were heard throughout the small corridor of the clinic room. It was Welcoming Day to all employees who decided to revamp their skills into another trade, as well as the birth of a baby boy. His father was fashionably late to the event, as he was accompanying Jaha on an authorized-only ceremony on the other side of the station. Thomas burst through the swinging doors just as his son was being cleaned and handed to Valerie's perspiring chest. Valerie gave a tired, breathless smile as an awe-struck father took a slow seat next to his family.

"We did it," Valerie said, barely audible. "He's here—this is real."

The baby boy fussed and squirmed in his mother's arms, sensitive to touch and the alarming beeps of the vital monitor. Thomas was blinking back a mixture of tears and sweat from rushing and couldn't break his gaze from the bundle of wonder that lay in his wife's petite arms.

"What should we name him?" Valerie asked, her tired grey eyes smiled for her when her mouth could not. "I was thinking James, so we could call him Jim in the future or something."

"We're not calling him James," Thomas replied with a slight eye roll. His humor had returned as a means to exploit emotion for the day.

"Why not?"

"I already had a name picked out. I thought we discussed we wanted to name him after your father," Thomas paused and his bright blue eyes rested on his newborn son, "he died a noble death, after all."

The humming of the space station swiftly yet slowly turning on its axis in the mystical space filled the room for several seconds. The medical personnel had exited for a couple of minutes to give the mature couple some time with their child. The little boy seemed to stop squirming and opened his grey eyes to peer around the room.

"Yeah, okay," Valerie beamed.

"John. We will name him John."

* * *

John had been crying suddenly as Thomas was in the kitchen of his apartment making a modest lunch for himself. Valerie had still been in remission at the hospital the past evening after giving birth to their son. Truthfully, he had noticed a definite blanching of her skin in the clinic bed and a noticeably languid countenance. It didn't bother him too much—he knew his wife was strong. It was always them against the world even when Will had died nearly ten years earlier. He remembered it to the day. October 19, 2147.

On top of the daily slurs of spectators around the Ark, they dealt with the overall prejudice for being the poorest and somewhat laziest family to live there. Notorious for a history with crime and poverty, the Murphys never had it easy since Karl Murphy's son, Brett, had become a teen father. Though the product of teenage mishap, Thomas had made it an undying love of his to always protect his son; no matter what the future would throw at them. It would be a new generation of change.

"Shh, what's the matter? Why are you fussing, huh? I changed you—you want me to rock you? Okay, it's okay. Shh, daddy's got you."

Almost immediately, John had ceased crying when his face was adjacent to his father's right ear. The tiny, forced breathing startled Thomas and he quickly rearranged his son so that his face was visible. How careless he had been to never notice how swollen the baby's arm was or how abnormal his skin looked. It almost seemed to resemble—

There was a low beeping coming from the console on the wall near the kitchen. The sonic hum was only made audible to its residents via a very small cochlear implant so noise was kept to a minimum. The telecommunication console, or more properly referred to as a _phone_ , gave off a gentle red hue in the top right corner, signaling a call. Thomas couldn't conjure up a reason as to why his feet weren't shuffling in the uncanny manner they always did to answer some human being on the other end. It was an odd habit since birth, but it calmed him. To rush to the phone and know there was another presence.

But comfort seemed irrelevant to Thomas for the time being. John was still as a stone in his arms and snuggled tightly into his father's haphazard, vertical embrace. Thomas' cerulean eyes glinted in such a way that emotion seemed strangled. His heart knew, his brain knew, hell—he figured little Johnny already knew.

_Ring. Hum. Ring_.

He supported John as best he could with one arm and his elbow lodged the bottom half of his son while his free arm reached out towards the telephone. John's small chest lifted and huffed and a tiny trail of drool latched onto his father's orange pullover. He knew. Thomas knew. With one clammy and trembling hand did Thomas dare pick up the phone from its receiver. The silence that passed with that one second seemed all too long, but he savored it—savored the calm.

_Ba-thump. Ba-thump._

" _Thomas… are you there? Something's happened."_

The feigned calm of the voice and the frantic tone. Wishful hoping with a false sense of security.

"Hello?" He was never good at hiding things and the melancholy flat line of his voice became prevalent without a care.

"Valerie…the baby…Thomas…c o …m…t…o…the hospital. Look, I dunno. Just shut that thing up, will ya? What the hell is wrong with…y o…u? Can't you see I'm on the phone? S…h..it. J o h…n. G e t… h i m. Bring him here. He needs…a n …I n ject ion. …Th….omas? Hello?"

_Ba-thump. Ba-thump._

" _T homas! Hello? Get o v …er…here. NOW! Valerie….they …s... c ew ….ed. It all up. E v er..y..thing. B l o …. Do you …remember ….h i s blood? John's blo..od?"_

"B positive." His voice was deep and firm. He had no life left. How stupid he was to believe a boy like him, with some dumbass tragic background could ever have that happy ending. To have a life, to have a wife.

Thirty-seven was too soon for her to go. To his family, it was too late. John would never see her smile or listen to his mother's lullaby. She would never see her son go to Unity Day and maybe meet a decent girl. She would never see how proud he would make her. Thomas' vision of the future was shattered. Maybe it was gone even as early as Will's demise. To see their handsome boy finally arrive, lifeless, was the ultimate destroyer of all hope. Or so they thought.

He knew. His father's nesting instincts kicked in about the ninth week of the first pregnancy. It never lost its usage until that day. He held his son out of general disinterest; like a nice pair of dress shoes that needed to stay off the dusty floor. At that moment, he could've cared less if John would've gotten worse and passed on the way to the clinic. He hung up the phone. His eyes filled with tears of anger. Anger at his new son, anger at his past, anger at the Council, anger at Dr. Romero calling to bullshit with his heart, anger at life—not death. The Murphys were never well-educated to begin with as generations of delinquents and garbage men, but Thomas was never a stupid man. The problem looped in his head over and over.

"AB negative."

_...the flat line of a machine….._

But the actual cause of her death went deeper than science. It was personal. If he had to die to do her justice, then he would die. John was a useless possession. A son was already taken from him, what good did a second do? But sadly, he still had a fraction of hope buried in a small piece of his heart that hadn't shattered. Their very existence was a mistake. It was out of pure compassion that Karl Murphy was spared the tragedies of the dying Earth. They weren't exceptional, they weren't engineers or doctors or useful other than what they could find to do. They were crude and poor and liked it that way. But Thomas tried to change that. He met her when cleaning her apartment. Those steel gray eyes were big and gentle against her dark hair and small, defined face. She was his everything. She made him a sentimental man. He was never a sentimental man. None of them were. But oh, the visions he had for the future and his family. For the Murphys to reclaim and triumph over the tragedy and the pain and the poverty. They were going to live.

Oh how wrong he was.

His dear Valerie—August 22, 2157.

* * *

"Murph, what are we doing tonight?"

"Oh same old. Got any ideas?"

His eyes scanned the pages of the current magazine vaguely, finding no particular interest in scandalous pictures of gorgeous and dead women. Mbege limped down into the chair by the bed staring at his friend with expectancy. It was nearing midnight, and with the current Friday night plans, all of them could go for roughing things up around the station.

Colin brought some dusty old bottles of scotch and beer while Jason brought the music. Hip-hop was Mbege's personal favorite and what Murphy deemed "good quality shit". They terrorized a smaller, nerdy, kid near the trash bins earlier that day after Murphy got off of work so he could 'borrow' some things for their masculine sleepover later.

"Murphy, wanna get laid?" Colin walked into the small bedroom confidently with the smallest hint of a smirk across his face. "I know a few ladies and I can make arrangements tonight."

"Tonight?" Murphy raised his brows slightly. As much as the idea intrigued him, he could wait to bang.

"Take off the cock block," Mbege joked and playfully threw a piece of popcorn at his forehead. This initiated deep-throated snorts and chuckles from the other two.

"I said, I didn't want to have sex tonight," Murphy said, attempting to change the subject with a gulp of his beer.

"So tomorrow then?" Colin asked. He ruffled his sandy hair absentmindedly.

"For the eightieth time, no," Murphy scoffed, "besides, it's getting late and I kind of just wanted to relax by listening to music and chatting."

"Murphy, what do we always talk about?" He only took one glance at the magazine in front of him before closing it and tossing it to the side.

"So? Look at this, get horny. I don't care. I don't see why we need to worry about girls getting involved. It was supposed to be guys' only night. Remember? Jason was the asshole who came up with it—almost got me caught after work." Murphy had had his fair share of authority bullshitting into his business to last a couple generations.

Jason rolled his eyes and took a seat on the floor where he happily took sips of some of his scotch.

"Look, you guys go. I'll just hang here or go to bed or something."

Mbege adjusted himself in the chair. "No. I'm staying." He looked up at Colin and Jason for reinforcement and was met with slight disappointment and reluctance. Getting a good one night stand could be pushed back.

"You're missing out, Murph." Colin pointed a lecturing finger at the boy before grabbing a ball and bouncing it at the wall.

* * *

Murphy woke up sprawled over the bed with remnants of the night before. His friends had taken their own possessions and cleaned up—for the most part. Pieces of food were still visible as well as a few empty alcohol bottles. Not like he was worried. Peter was already gone by the time Murphy looked at the clock by his bed. He slowly got up and was faintly surprised two and a half bottles hadn't left him a nice little hangover like it usually did. He quickly tidied up the bed and kicked old bottles into the pile of clothes in his closet so Peter wouldn't notice when he got home from work at four.

Murphy's Saturday morning had what he considered a cruel reality—work. Plain old, dumb shit. Dirty, dumb, old shit. He took a quick shower to wash off the smell of beer and junk food they found hidden in a stash in the Go Sci Station a couple weeks ago. He really didn't want to go back into work that day, but hey, someone had to help pay the bills, right? It wasn't like he was really being offered much of a choice either; it was work harder at school, which he despised in entirety, or contribute to the well-being of the Ark. It wasn't so bad to Murphy, but the fact he still was new enough to need a mentor was total bullshit. Don't get him wrong, Fenquin was a nice old guy and whatever. Murphy just didn't feel like hearing the same punchline a few times a month like he always did.

" _Hey, do you need some help finding your way around the Ark? I Noah guy. Hyahh, hyee ha!"_

Murphy groaned aloud just thinking of it. He was at least eight days overdue from hearing the joke. He exited the facilities and took careless steps into the kitchen before he made his way to work. Always being the mom and dad, he supposed.

"Ahem."

Murphy's heart sank to the pits. He stopped mid-step as he saw Peter's stern and taut face standing in front of the counter with muscular arms crossed. He should've been at work, but instead found more interest in more important affairs in front of him.

"John," Peter greeted sternly. The smell of aftershave was faded that day.

Murphy took slow, deliberate steps around Peter to the refrigerator so he could put something in his suddenly queasy stomach. Peter rotated so the boy was always in his field of vision.

"Do you know why I'm here?"

Murphy took a careful sip of liquid. It tasted like shit, but he downed it anyway. "No, actually it'd be marvelous if you go back to work."

Peter shifted in his steps slightly. The small wrinkles in his forehead seemed engraved into an eternal scowl of pure intimidation. He practically whipped a white sheet of paper from inside his vest out of thin air and slammed it onto the table in front of him. The low-hanging light highlighted the anger in his eyes.

"What the hell were you doing in Go Sci, desecrating the place with paint?" Peter demanded. Murphy's face faked surprise for a second before reforming back into a familiar smugness and irritation. "That's not art."

"Oh come on," Murphy defended, "you did it when you were my age!"

Peter half-slammed his palms onto the table and his voice became low. "Do you really think I'm here to talk about me or play games? This isn't a _game_ , John! Something's gotta give here."

Peter stood up straight again, pacing around the room in a rage that he didn't know what to do with himself. "First I get this notification while going to pick up the mail this morning. I was so livid that I called in work and said I was going to take the day off! A woman needs someone to deliver her baby for god's sakes and you aren't letting me do my job! I hope you realize how pissed off I am with you!"

"I am," Murphy said. It was more so out of irritation than out of fear.

Peter paced around some more in frustration. "Oh but let's see, I'm not done. We've got the incident with school—your truancy—your friends influencing your bad behaviors because you think you can relate with them? Nuh-uh. We have you bullying kids around because you think you're better than them, we have that alcohol you try to sneak past me every week! John—"

"-Don't act like my father!" Murphy enunciated darkly, out of pure frustration. "You're not him, Peter, you'll never be him!"

"John, I never said I was. You have to understand I'm doing this because I care about you."

"Oh do you?" Murphy scoffed. "Did you care when they floated him in front of me?" Murphy took a few steps closer to his face. "Were you there when you saw the look in our eyes. Our last communication?"

"John—"

"No." A small tear ran down his cheek as he bit his lip in bitterness. "No. You weren't. Who's to say I wouldn't be a delinquent with him too? I was—he didn't care. He was a good man. He still was a father to me when he wasn't drunk. He was a good man."

" _Daddy?"_

_The weight dangling from the ceiling caused the metal to moan in slight distress as his body circled round and round._

" _Daddy!" he cried. "I'll get you down, I promise! Don't do this!" He ran and hurried to get a nearby knife and a footstool. He grunted a little to allow his short frame space to jump and reach the noose._

" _Ja…ha."_

" _What?" he sniffled. "Daddy, what? I'm hurrying. I'm trying to reach the rope. Don't kill yourself."_

" _Jaha...," he gulped, "Jaha's to blame. It's always…the privileged."_

Peter stood there in shock, unsure what to say to comfort a seething and pained teenager in front of him. He took a deep breath. "John," he said again, rewinding a bit firmer, "your father—was delusional. You can't base your hate off of what he said. He was _drunk_ …off of it."

"He was a good man," Murphy spat, "he understood me. I was the last part of his wife he ever would have."

"And I bet your family loves you very much. Brother included," Peter added. Murphy cringed at the word. Family. The only family he knew was himself. Peter didn't count—he was just a provider, just a caretaker. A random man who took him in through the Council. He would never count.

"You don't know what it's like for everyone on the whole damn station to treat us like we're vermin! Jaha and the history of leaders knew what they were doing. My mother's death was no medical mishap. They killed her. They hated us. They needed to justify that the Murphy family was still miserable. Do _you_ understand that now, Peter?"

Murphy pointed a finger sharply into Peter's face. Peter seemed undaunted and offered a look of authority to counteract. He let it be.

"Don't you dare say I need to change," Murphy warned. Another tear fell. "If they float me…so be it."

"I understand," Peter retorted. Murphy waned a bit. "I don't forgive you, but I understand."

> ~()~()~()~

Holland watched restlessly through the blackness of the night. It was past midnight and everyone succumbed to exhaustion after brutal arguing hours before. The game plan was still in question and it honestly turned her stomach to think things were still left unsolved.

Her eyes rested on the motionless figure of Murphy on the couch. She feigned sleep on the hard and splintery wood floors and wondered how long it had been since any of them had a decent place to sleep without worry. Especially him. He hadn't slept on a bed in months. He hadn't had anything soft touch his skin in years.

Holland mentally ran through her mind of everyone's backstory. Her semi-eidetic memory had tragic visions of everyone as she took glances of the other sleeping bodies in the room. She let out a silent, pained breath from her heart and through her nose.

She understood him. Could anyone forgive him? Did they have a right to? Debatable. She wondered what it was like to lose everything when she didn't have anything to lose to begin with. Her birth was a mistake, in honesty. Clarke's wasn't. Finn's wasn't. Monty and Jasper's wasn't. Her eyes shut and thought about them all. As much as she wanted sleep, her internal vision rested on his pages from Mount Weather. Valerie and Thomas. Peter.

They were just going through their own hells fighting their own demons. She was a firm believer that people didn't change, that people didn't shape because of decisions; decisions were shaped because of _them_. She wished she weren't such a realist.

She didn't think even she, a stranger, could forgive him for his blinded anger. The rage, the hurt. It all started long before anyone knew him. His closest friends didn't even know. They would never know but she would. She couldn't forgive him.

But she understood him.

And the rest of them for that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Murphy angst everywhere…my god. My take on why he is the way he is. The writers of the show should hire me ;_; *joking*
> 
> But, in all goodness, I'm not saying what he did/does is okay by any means, but you gotta have some sort of understanding for the guy. This should explain why… from my perspective at least. Please be objective.
> 
> Gosh. I fricking love backstories. On any character really. Just give me a canon character and I could write a BOOK on background theories and whatnot.
> 
> I may do background stuff on other characters in the future. Undecided as of now.
> 
> I chose Murphy for this chapter to kind of offer a dynamic and get it out of the way. Reason being, if you have not seen the sneak preview of Season 2 already, do so! I plan on waiting until the pilot on the 22nd with Clarke and the others to incorporate into this. Obviously, I will still have the same main plans. So thanks for bearing with me. I could talk about any character all day.
> 
> Discussions in my PM are welcome! (Murphy debate, anyone?)
> 
> Next chapter will FOR SURE include more with Clarke, Bellamy, Mount Weather, and we will know where Octavia and Oskar are. Got some serious nailbiting to do next week. Pretty sure I'm right with my theories for Season 2 so far. Dante and Clarke...Abby and Kane may find Murphy tied to the tree...
> 
> Oh and for anyone out there...BELLAMY IS ALIVE. I saw a clip of him running lightning fast with a spear in hand. But no Finn. I don't remember the name of the video, but it's a commercial ad thing from CW. As always, comments are incredibly welcome.


	15. Algorithm

Clarke looked at the foreboding map in her hands again. The same passageways and entrances were mismatched invisibly. Each tunnel was carefully sketched through so that no amount of scratching through would ever reveal a hidden code that she seemed to unconsciously desire. The map was a force that frustrated her and she tossed it to the side with its folder.

' _Screw it, Clarke. You're never going to make it out of here'_

Whether the gnawing urge to see Bellamy's face one last time was emerging its way into controlling her brain, or the fact the Ark could have had survivors that were casually being picked off by remaining forces, was unclear. She found an obligation to her people, not just by some random election in the past, or some entitlement that made her any more likely to lead due to her privileged upbringing, but by the sheer fact that lives were so very precious in the present age made it all more plausible to escape. There were survivors, her confrontation with Bellamy proved so, but she kicked herself for not paying more attention to the route he came through. She assumed he had come in the way she had attempted to leave, for fear of being shot down by a brainwashed Maya and Jasper before the latter was thrown out.

Of course, what the Mountain Men considered 'outside' and 'courtyard' were very different from a perceptible view from anyone else. Their definition consisted of dictionary spewed out for generations upon generation. The so called barn she and Miller were assigned to now that her two friends were gone was nothing more than a storage room where horses were kept for any outside trips the guards had to make. Clarke could sense it from the beginning; it was a cult. A greedy, frightening, and well-organized cult. Sometimes Clarke would find herself throwing up the well-cooked dinner they made out of habit. Visualizing routes in her map and notepad seemed to alleviate that. She must have gone through the map seven times a day when they didn't have her work to make up for the broken glass in her containment chamber or the ruckus she created trying to escape numerous times.

She didn't care if they wanted to throw out people and trade hers in; it was wrong and unlawful to dispose of someone with a snap of a finger, to be blunt. Truthfully, knowing her mother, Kane, and Raven were all traded for Monty seemed to be more sickening as it was calming. She never saw them. It was black and white reasoning that Dante kept faces from being reunited; she counted. She hadn't seen all forty-eight of her people there. More lies.

But through all the sketching and all the re-routing and individual searching inside for some form of satisfaction, there was something that seemed to trigger warning bells inside of the cogs that formed a brilliant mind. In truth, they were all physical cogs at the facility. She contemplated for a good twenty minutes and discovered the inevitable, beautiful, and dark truth that encompassed her plotting. Dante knew what she was doing; they were two bulls ramming horns in a battle of wits.

Her mind was put on pause as a guard stood tall by her door, looking at her with a firm sense of awareness. It was nauseatingly calm to see his suit off, in a face and clothes that screamed human, contrasting the attire she was used to seeing to begin with. They were still human. But Clarke found a strange resentment at how oblivious and complacent they were.

Cogs. Liars. Puppets.

"Ms. Griffin, please turn off your lights and call it a night. All residents must be asleep by ten. Report to President Wallace's office in the morning for an important briefing. That is all, goodnight."

With one switch, the main lights of the cell went off, and a dim glow of a night light caressed the ceiling with a star pattern.

She slowly lay down, looking up at the ceiling and traced over stars with her fingers and briefly remembered the Ark. Going to speeches, learning about nuclear physics and being relatively lost, helping her mother out in the lab, and the few friends she had. The ones she never would see again and the ones that were new that seemed more distant than ever. Her hands pulled and twisted through the ends of her hair out of a habit she did when she was too restless to sleep. She briefly contemplated the guard to her cell from earlier. If she didn't let the surprise and resentment get to her, she would've replaced 'Ms' with 'prisoner'. There was no sugarcoating it. If one thing helped her sleep, it was the mental representation of the map. But just then, it clicked. A new concept nearly had her floating off the bed.

So what happens when you remove the machine from the cogs?

_Chaos._

Clarke couldn't have been happier and for the first time in months, the Brave Princess got a full night's rest.

> ~()~()~()~

Holland's fingers dusted over the old books she used to fulfill her mind with in the childhood days where it was okay to find a special escape. She liked to pretend it was an adventure; even if it was the only pretending she could ever do as a child. Noma's living room held numerous books of science and technology that she could educate herself with. _Due Process of Law_ , _A Study of Psychology_ , a bibliography on Pavlov, _Molecular Biology_ , _Psychophysics_ , _Essentials of Anatomy and Physiology_ , _Origins of Language and Grammar_ , and _Semantics_. Various history books cemented in the leftover spaces of time she had. The sultry-eyed young girl scanned diverse sections of World War I and II; probably since it was incredibly relevant to a trilogy war in 2053. Her mind absorbed the material quick enough to tell you detailed and informed summaries of each chapter of the hundreds of books she had read. While a captive for experimentation, they let her hear or be aware of very little. She barely remembered the hushed tones of men outside the door near the double-sided mirror:

' _No' '...autistic... tendencies…' 'Or Asperger's' 'not atypical'_ and _'every case is different' '…synesthesia…' 'this was Leland' 'Are you sure?' 'Positive' 'IQ of 160'_

Her head was spinning just traveling back to the nostalgic times and her heart ached knowing it would never repeat itself. But those times also contained hiding under the same cabinets and tables in the very room she was currently standing in, scared for her life and holding a gun to her tiny chest.

Sentiment.

It was a lesson she had told herself dozens of times before. When they were screaming through the woods looking to lynch her when she escaped and eventually having to return to have her skin patched down with a fresh coat of wounds. She had to be her own guardian angel if she wanted to survive—but at what price?

"Alright," Bellamy said, wiping some sweat from the heated steam of the shower earlier, "we're going to get answers."

He directed his attention towards Murphy. "Murphy, tell me what you saw. Now's not the time to screw around; we're serious."

Murphy looked at him as if he were looking through glass. He shrugged limply. "I wouldn't really know. I guess it looked like what it looked like when you were there last."

Bellamy sat back in his seat, folding his arms with a distant approval. The answer didn't satisfy him and he wasn't sure if acquiescence ever would until proven into getting the answer he desires face to face by his own doing.

"He's right," Holland said by the bookshelves, scanning through a dusty page without looking up, "his pupils are still barely back to normal. They don't like people knowing routes to get in and out of that place. Main reason they snatched up your people through gas."

Bellamy caught Finn's eye briefly, both holding an invisible struggle that would never make it known. Jasper was holding his head in the middle of the room, acting oddly as if a random force kicked him square in the temple.

"Jasper?" Lauren inquired.

He groaned quietly and sat down. "This—no. It's not good. My head…"

"Jasper? Is there something you want to tell us?" Bellamy asked. He leaned in closer from his chair and focused directly on the shaggy-haired boy.

Jasper looked up suddenly, glancing at the others around him in a circle. His eyes were wide and full of an underlying fear that could burst at the seams at any given second. He stared straight at the front door, lightly touching his lips together in silent, incoherent murmurs out of anticipation.

"I was there." His voice was barely above a croaking whisper. Monty laid a hand on his shoulder understandingly.

"Jasper? You just have a headache. It's okay..." Monty realized he didn't need to say anything further and stopped himself before doing so. It was a dumb assumption and he humbled himself back into the couch. It wasn't necessary to reveal the truth that the two companions resided in the facility together. Luckily, no one paid much mind.

Bellamy gave a side glance to Holland in the back where she stood silently by the bookshelf, unfazed by any drama occurring, and confidently enamored in _Basics to Computer Hacking_. Her mind was a small voice that was overseeing anything that would crumble or unravel itself at the seams.

"You can slow down, take it from the start," Bellamy said calmly. Judging by how frayed Jasper was, it was only right to be as respectful as possible. Murphy wanted to vomit from the kindness to the clique he'd never really been welcome in, but he remained silent and diminishing.

"That's why they knocked me out, dragged me, and threw me back…" Jasper said with a voice portraying awe. He touched the back of his head where it was bruised a deep, royal purple under his dark locks.

"Did they torture you?" Lauren asked.

"Did you see Clarke?" Jones questioned. "Were any of our people being tortured?"

"Just promise me they didn't hurt you other than that, Jasper," Monty whispered.

Jasper searched the ground for some sort of display that would flash his answers that zipped through his brain at that moment. "No," he replied quietly, "I was kept in solitary after so long. I knew they kept some others away from us. Maya visited me. She's so nice—just like Octavia—" Jasper's eyes began to tear up from a scarred guilt that inflicted his heart.

"They were beating people to death," he said, lowering his voice out of horror, "I saw the blood dripping down the hallway, in the medical ward, I-I don't know…I guess I wanted to forget. I just wanted to eat cake and laugh and be happy…I…and when they were done strapping me to the chair, they questioned me about everyone. I assume they wanted individual answers put together into one. But they weren't satisfied. The last thing I felt was a hard blow to my head and I woke up in the dirt with amnesia…"

He let the tears flow down his cheeks. It was apparent of the discomfort in his eyes that he had been emotionally traumatized from his experiences. No one said anything. No one knew what to say. Interrogation was over…it never succeeded in anything more than scars of heartbreak. Monty knew after six pieces of cake; a gentler prototype of lysergic acid diethylamide, enough to make you care less about electrical stimulation in one of the medical chambers.

Bellamy couldn't let it continue. If there was anything or anyone that was responsible, it was the foreigner in the room with them all. The King was already frustrated, near pulling the hair out of his scalp just to relieve pent up aggression. He had to find closure somewhere, even if it meant the dawdling task of interrogation.

The girl was in the back of the room, fondling the worn cover of a book in her hands. The dust in the musty cabin seemed to be brought up more as the fuming leader approached her with the only tactic he knew. She was lucky she was a female.

"What did your people do to him?" It was as angry as the red coating of subtle burn marks on his face. Jasper was no different than the others; lost, dazed, tortured, and confused in equal amounts. The communistic approach of the Mountain Men had its limits with the King, and although his foreboding presence was certainly luring, it barred no match for his opponent. His agitation only seemed to appease her slightly and she had more intellect than to pass by a good opportunity for a silent battle.

She barely turned her head to make eye contact, brushing her pupils past their shoulders and to a sobbing teen being cradled in the center of the room. "I didn't know about this. This is all new to me."

The insurmountable stone-cold expression of the girl lingered at a more haunting pace than it brought. If it weren't for the heat glowering through the trees and the bright yellow orb in the sky outside, one could say autumn had brought crisp air and a flowing breeze among them.

"Why the hell are you so calm, liar?" The last word was added on as more of a challenge than Bellamy had intended, but he let it hang, hoping he would eventually crack her shell into the freedom of their people.

Holland, however, remained more intact than ever. " _Keeping my composure_ …," she added quickly, slightly cutting into the presumptuous breath that he left, "…and being a liar are two very different things."

Bellamy found himself frustrated again and grabbed tightly to the back of the table adjacent to him. "He didn't deserve this. None of them do," he sighed. Holland found it mildly entertaining he was suddenly showing so much concern for others when all she saw was a rock—a very temperamental rock. The already visible lines of age, stress, and worry became more discernible as he gave a sigh that left his eyelids to close softly. He wanted something to take his anger out on for revealing a startling fact that everyone else in the room was aware of; the bastards threw Jasper out of Mount Weather, into the cave, and left him there to fend for himself in his old clothes and items. The chilling reason why seemed to radiate off of the delinquents' prisoner.

"He didn't deserve this. None of them do."

Holland closed the book in her hands; more dust flew into the ceiling. "They were flooded with a disruption in their lifestyle. The equation was to rid of the problem—whatever that be—and remove it just like protocol states. I assume you had similar rules aboard the station." She blinked a bit before closing her bloodshot eyes. "What do you want me to tell them? Beg them to stop? Because they won't. Sadly, what you see is their way of doing things; he's a decent example." She motioned her hand over to a resting Murphy on the couch.

"He's a murderer and he got what he deserved." Bellamy bit his tongue to add more detail to the discrepancy between him and Murphy, but decided to leave it hanging in the air for an intelligent Holland to pick up on.

"I don't care," she said, eyes flickering with amusement as Bellamy's lips parted with a small amount of shock. "We're here now, not there."

"I'll blast their brains in for what they did," Bellamy said, directing his attention dead-on, "so, got an answer in those books you're so consumed in? Please share."

Holland shoved the book back into its proper niche in the bookshelf and leaned on it with crossed arms, now facing her opponent with direct body communication. Her casual demeanor was on the brink of losing patience, but she persevered for the sake of getting her way.

"I was just—reminiscing. I've always had a plan, but considering you shoot down everything I have to say because I'm a prisoner, I figured it wasn't worth much than just watching you all egg it out amongst yourselves until you come crawling back to me for answers," she clenched her jaw slightly as Finn came hobbling nearer to Bellamy, "like you all are now."

"I need your help—" Bellamy sighed before correcting himself, " _we_ need your help. I understand trust is a big thing right now, but if there's anything that you're not getting out of is that you _are_ helping us!"

Holland shrugged a bit, and stood up straighter. "Like I said, there's a ball tomorrow night. Another day should buy us time to heal up and settle our stomachs." The look on Bellamy's face was enough for her to throw a hand to stop his words from coming out. "We're going. That's final."

"They'll know it's us," Bellamy projected and the look on Finn's face supported the decline.

"Can I just say Jasper is in no shape to go? I won't let him go anywhere," Monty said, repeating a silent distrust for a stranger's plan over the priority of a friendship that needed to be regained and renewed.

"We give him another day to live out more amnesiac episodes. Your friend will be fine." She never meant to seem like a persisting bitch against wanting to help them. Honestly, she wanted to help them. It was just that her selfish intentions didn't need to be revealed so soon.

Finn had had enough stress, even if he wasn't saying much about it. "Bellamy's right; it can't work. They'll recognize us. It's crazy."

Holland looked him straight into his chocolate eyes; hers fierce with a seriousness that couldn't be pinned down. "What are you going to trust more—your gut instincts and faulty common sense, or my experience?"

"What do we do?" came the exasperated and defeated reply of the King. The battle was won, but not over.

"Rest, clean up. Everyone can continue taking showers until they feel totally clean. We can take turns."

It seemed nearly impossible, random, and curious, that an old cabin could facilitate running water after hundreds of years. No one questioned or commented on it; Grounders proved to be quite learned and productive despite a subjectively savage lifestyle.

"Our injuries can't heal within a day," Bellamy rubbed his wrists, "besides, they could be killing our friends in that time."

"Or Clarke," Monty said quietly, inferring the Princess was furious about an enclosed situation; both internally and literally. Bellamy clenched and unclenched his jaw at the thought of how she would try to run things for herself. Two driving forces wouldn't bode well.

Holland took a seat. "Let me handle it."

"It's unrealistic," Finn contested.

"So say this is okay, say we get in fine, how the hell would this make it easier to get our friends out?"

The residents there held the party in an enclosed space, guarded by walls that were more like suffocating fences. Holland knew it; she assumed they all were slowly envisioning the Mountain Men for who they were. Regardless if they were people who did things differently than the delinquents, they were still human.

"Improvisation," Holland chimed, "we get in and you blend in and follow my lead. We'll have some time getting there. Noma has a van in the shed. A game plan could be practiced and devised on the way there."

As much as Bellamy hated the thought of another potential suicide mission, there was no turning back. Any chance was a progressive one. No matter what the cost, he would figure things out once and for all.

"They'll let me in. They'll think you're with me and it will be fine. As long as we blend in, they will think we are part of them. Only the System knows I come and go. The residents have no idea that I leave the facility," Holland scratched at her sleeve a bit, fending off a smirk creeping its way forward, "because the sheep stay in their flock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to just stick through the original plans with this story. So, it'll be a slight alternate universe type of Season 2. Don't get me wrong, I love the direction they are heading with the premiere last Wednesday and there are similarities, but I guess this is what fanfiction is for. Also, it is a bit late to change anything, ha!
> 
> I originally stated that the locations of Oskar and Octavia would be revealed...however...I have decided to push it back to chapter 19. xD sorry for that. 
> 
> Hope this chapter was sustainable.


	16. Moonlight Walkers

* * *

"Raven, hold still."

The bolt securing the prosthetic in place was wobbling out as the young mechanic struggled to fight off the discomfort it gave.

"Sorry," Raven said, gritting through her teeth as Abby had practically held her foot down on the bed in order to steady herself. One last exhale was made as the arm was set in its place. Abby threw down the tools and wrench on the table and wiped the sweat off her brow, looking to Raven in anticipation.

"Well?"

Raven sat bemused for a second with an unreadable expression. A few seconds later, a giant grin took over her face that made Abby sigh in relief. The mechanic was back.

"Very cool," Raven said, slowly bending her elbow and admiring its features. "I'll have to adjust it later but not bad, rookie."

Abby let out a confirming smile, happy that one major setback was out of the way.

"I just have one more question…" Raven looked to Abby slowly, meeting her deadpan eyes before lifting her shirt. The bullet wound was seared together neatly, leaving dark purple bruising in and around the area. "I don't feel it," she said barely above a whisper, "you're a doctor so explain."

"Raven, honey—" In all honesty, Abby didn't have an answer. She didn't even know who shot her so she assumed it was one of the Grounders. The entirety of what was happening made her head swim. She could barely think of anything to say or do let alone find an answer for anything. "—you have a lot of drugs in you. I checked your blood levels. That's why you don't feel much."

Raven, of course, had dodged the answer more than Abby had. "I couldn't feel my legs on the dropship. I was coughing up blood while no one was around. If anyone would have come in and worked on me, I would have felt it."

Abby took a breath and examined the area on the abdomen more carefully. "They took out the bullet but drugged you first. I took a look in the medicine cabinets and they have better supplies than ones on the Ark. Still, even doing that it's pure luck you're still alive."

Raven seemed satisfied temporarily, glad that another secret wasn't entirely kept away from her.

Raven pulled her shirt back over her stomach. "I won't have relapses?"

"As long as you take it easy, you'll be fine. I assume they took out the bullet just in time before you were paralyzed but there's still significant trauma."

"Abby," Raven said with pleading eyes, "we need to find out what the hell is going on here. This place had wires and electronics that I know I'd be able to hack into."

"We'll worry about that later," Abby said half-heartedly, avoiding eye contact and swallowing a lump in her throat.

"Have you seen Clarke hardly at all? Have you seen any more of our people here? We need to do something before they kill them."

Abby's inside prayer had been answered when the door behind them opened. The two were expecting guards to get them in trouble or drag them away as it was nearing bedtime hours. But instead, Marcus stood in the door with his hands behind his back and a stern expression plastered onto his face.

"Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, I was just adjusting her prosthetic."

"Abby, we need to talk," Kane said straight away. He leaned in the doorway, waiting for her to follow. Abby took a look at Raven and their eyes met with some form of disappointment. Abby met Kane outside of the room and he shut it silently before leading her by the arm down the hall.

"What do you need, Marcus?"

He met her with more silence as he took her to where there wouldn't be cameras from above looking down on them with voyeurism.

He led her into his quarters, making Abby feel rightfully uncomfortable and watched down the hall in case anyone had anything to say about it. The door shut behind him and Abby stood tall waiting for whatever he was about to say or do.

"I hacked into the mainframe." Marcus watched as her eyes became wide and he hushed her before she had a chance to say anything. "I got help from a few of the kids," he said.

"Marcus, are you insane? Risking everything like that?" Abby whispered furiously, as if the walls had grown ears.

"I talked with the president, or the commander, and I'm telling you he isn't to be trusted. But before I get to that, well, let me tell you that his son is even more so of a threat—"

Abby watched him intently as her nostrils flared slightly. Kane took a deep breath, struggling over words and dropping the once stoic expression on his face minutes before. Abby's heart dropped watching him and her expression lightened. She knew that look—he was guilty and on the verge of a breakdown, crying silently and beating himself up over being accountable.

"They were—experimenting on kids. _Our_ kids, Abby." He could barely speak. He was distraught with a guilt that had an iron grip over his chest. He had to force himself to remain calm and composed in front of her.

"And what do we do?"

The cold and withdrawn response was not one he was expecting. He was expecting something that would have condoned him holding fistfuls of hair in his room hours before. Still, her eyes deceived the tone she portrayed and for that, he both envied and admired her courage. He would never amount to her and yet, just hearing her speak was enough to motivate him to move mountains.

"Figure out something," Marcus said slowly, ordering it rather than suggesting it. He was pacing now, looking at his feet as if the floorboards held an answer he overlooked. "The others know what's happening and we have to stop it."

"Do you really think there's a way out?" Abby said, nearly challenging. "Have you seen an exit anywhere? Because if there was I'd like to think my daughter would've found a way out by now."

"Abby, this is serious—there's no time to be dwelling on Clarke right now," Marcus strived. His brows furrowed in a way as if to push her away from a dark place he had been in himself, but, knowing Abby, she just wouldn't budge.

The power struggle between them flickered in intensity as it did on the Ark. "I know what's best and that's to mind our business for now. You are not leading those kids into an unwarranted death."

Marcus stepped a little closer; the struggle between them increasing as the space closed. "And what do you propose that'd do waiting around, hm? If they don't die trying to escape this hell then they'll die by torture."

"I don't know what the solution is. I don't know if you and I will even make it back to the camp," Abby said, contriving her composure to remain strong. She adjusted herself promptly and stood up tall. "I'm sure Thelonious is doing a good job searching for other stations of the ark…leading our people."

Knowing the Chancellor, Marcus knew all too well that if enough time passed that Thelonious would come looking for them and ultimately fall into the bear trap set by Mount Weather. He hoped he was smarter than that. Thelonious was a man who easily chose fate over realism and that could even mean risking Marcus' and Abby's life for the majority. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but after seeing the mental state the Chancellor was in after crashing down with part of the Ark, he wasn't so sure. He even saw Thelonious slowly losing faith in humanity.

"I get the feeling you don't believe me," Marcus sneered in a shallow, disbelieving tone.

Abby scanned the room, looking for the right words to say as she always did. "They have the equipment here—it's entirely possible they could be doing what you say they are."

Marcus was becoming edgy now, eager for the chance to claim validity.

"You want to see what will happen to your daughter if we don't do something?" Marcus paused, allowing himself to catch some air, "I'll show you."

* * *

**~()~()~()~()~()~**

The group quickly followed each other out of the van, a few wearing masks to hide the scars embedded onto their faces. They all cleaned up nicely for the most part. Lauren and Holland wore gowns they found in the guest room and the men succumbed to shirts and ties that were stiff and reminded them of rich dances aboard the Ark. Murphy followed out last, seeming to be hobbling still from his leg. Lauren had a keen eye and slid a painkiller in his hand to shut him up. He put it in his mouth skeptically, downing it with his spit.

The familiar entrance stared at them ominously.

"Hell on Earth," Jasper mumbled.

"What's your bright plan now?" Bellamy asked, getting down low and scanning the perimeter for signs of anyone noticing them.

"Walk straight in, that is, I will," Holland replied calmly. She looked around the building and saw a hatch loose in its place from where she assumed a few of them had escaped out of. "There," she pointed, "those lead into some vents. If anyone's good at sneaking then I'd say go for it."

"These people inside know you?" Bellamy said, disbelieving she wouldn't be shot on sight. She turned around and gave him a sharp look.

"Yes," she replied simply, not having energy or will to explain how or why. In all due time, they would see. It was too late for them to continue with her down a path she had to involve them in.

She turned around to face them all; eyes firm and serious. "The minute you came down to Earth, you were immediately involved in something you can't turn back from. Surviving comes with a price, and as long as you're with me I promise you people will be safe. To explain would waste too much time. You'll see as we go."

"Woah, woah, woah, your highness," Jones butted in, "who said we were following you?"

"I'm sorry," she said coolly, "there is no choice now."

"I don't know about you all, but I'd rather stay here and not die," Jasper suggested, "even if our friends are in there…they're criminals. I guarantee Clarke is already planning something."

"Or your Clarke is dead by now," Holland snipped, "I'm telling you, if an outside force doesn't get these people out then nothing will…they will be trapped and dead."

"I'll stay by the van with Jones," Finn said suddenly, "we're gonna need someone to keep watch in case something happens."

Holland rolled her eyes quickly, pushing the notion that nothing would happen with her there.

Bellamy whipped around. "You're just agreeing with her? Just like that?"

"If she knows of a way to get our people, even just a few, then that would be a huge step towards progress."

"I'll go with Jasper and Bellamy. I know some tricks in case we run into security," Monty said.

Bellamy stood there silent, looking intensely on the budding entrance to the building.

"Go with them," Holland nudged Bellamy, urging him to be a leader he desperately craved to be.

"Do I get a gun now?" Murphy held out his hand expectantly since a naive Jasper would be going with Monty through the vents and they'd only need one gun between them.

No one liked the idea of giving arms to John Murphy, particularly after everything, but it wouldn't make a choice to argue if Holland would press them into being resourceful with time. Her words were viciously persuasive and fierce and no one disagreed at that point.

"I'll be your date," Murphy winked subtly, laying an arm on Holland's shoulder, "I mean, that's pretty believable, right?"

"Murphy crosses the line of just being sassy and a total asshole all the time," Jasper looked to her as if to offer her some form of comfort.

Holland refused to reply to the king of wannabe debonair as she folded her fingers towards herself. "Give me the gun."

Murphy shot her a smirk and she welcomed it with a cold stare that was rigid in serious endeavors.

Bellamy happily gave her charge of the extra gun and straightened himself. "I hope you're right about all this," he hissed. However, he was the first to march towards the entrance to the facility and slipped away quietly while the others diverged in their separate ways once more.

Holland merely nodded at him seriously as their eyes met and a faint line of life and death flashed between them. If anything persisted in a cold world it would have to be determination.

Determination to survive.

* * *

**~()~()~()~()~()~**

Clarke sat in the dining hall with two empty, plush chairs on either side of her. She was becoming nauseated at looking at the same, elegant, and ignorant faces of the people who feared her not days before. The dining table was lavishly decorated with red and gold as flags from ages before lined the ceilings. It felt like a palace; and she didn't like one bit of it. It was a beautifully crafted scheme created by diabolical people whose motives she had yet to discover. Aside from the guards giving her a strange sense of satisfaction, encouraging her fears, she could not have felt more alone.

"Hey, there are desserts up there if you're interested. It's pretty good, too. They have chocolate, raspberry—"

She looked up at Miller discerningly. His subtle smile dropped and he took a seat next to her in an omniscient manner.

"We need to talk." Was all that spewed out of her mouth. He gave a small sigh and let his shoulders droop along with his eyes.

"Clarke," he started, "I know you're violently rejecting this…but considering our other options, are we really safer out there?"

She paused a moment to respond, allowing a couple to pass by as they minded their business; laughing with two glasses of wine in hand and leaving the vacating dining hall.

"I haven't seen hardly any of our people since we got here. How is that right?"

Miller shrugged with a small sigh.

"Where the hell are they and what's happening to them? What if we're next?"

He wanted to fight back, to offer empty words of encouragement, but the stern look in her eyes was always too much for him. It was strange how, despite being loyal to Bellamy, he always seemed to listen to her more if she had knowledgeable words of wisdom. Miller couldn't hide the horror and fear that gripped his gut.

* * *

**~()~()~()~()~()~**

Holland waited for several moments for the door to open from Monty's end. Murphy paced back and forth impatiently.

"How will they not realize someone's coming from this door?"

A few beeps were heard and she pulled down the large hatch on the door to allow pressure to seep from the cracks.

"Your friend Monty has the technical part," she replied without looking away from the entrance, "and these people haven't been exposed to radiation so this door is our best bet. I go through here all the time."

Murphy's mind swam with sudden questions but he shrugged it off. "How long have they been down here?"

"A long time."

She strode in front of him; her long burgundy dress swaying behind her through the cool, musty air. The door led to a separate chamber, isolated from the outside and inside. It was parallel to that on the Ark where hundreds of people floated to their death.

A few more beeps were heard and she was typing on the panel on the wall and a key card from a loose panel was swiped through its proper place. A confirming noise was signaled and she placed her hand on the kiosk as the last step before a rumbling was heard above them.

"Depressurization," she explained, "close your eyes and hold your breath."

They both did so, allowing the air to cycle through their clothes and skin for any risk of contamination to the residents inside. The shower of circulation ceased and clicks were heard before the internal door opened and they stepped inside. Murphy stared as the wall inside held hazmat suits aligned in rows and an adjacent pantry filled with laser-tipped rifles.

They turned a few corners and several long corridors before they were greeted by an elegant hallway brimming with people dancing and old, classical music filled their ears. Murphy certainly had an overwhelming intake of information, and he was certain the delinquents had too, but it far exceeded the schema his mind held.

"Act natural, they hardly notice us—"

On slight impulse, Murphy grabbed Holland's hand, leading her away from the entrance and into the thick of the crowd. He looked about for any signs of doubtful spectators, ignoring her comment. She looked down at her hand slowly, and raised her brow as she looked out through the crowd.

"Charming."

"Hey," he whispered, "keeping calm and playing along, right? I'm improvising."

"Certainly being bold about it, aren't you?"

The majority of the residents at the party we're either snobby young adults or snobby middle aged adults. The classical music throughout the large hall made the two feel inferior and they followed a path through the crowd and off to the side where they could appear to engage in formalities as the others were.

Murphy stood next to her by the wall where no one would bother them. She scanned the crowd elegantly through her mask, looking around for things. Whatever she was doing, he didn't know or understand, but he loyally stood beside her.

Holland couldn't fathom how loyal he was being to her and the rest of them. She had to dig deeper in order to truly decide whether or not it was secret hoax for a greater revenge that she didn't want to be oblivious about. He had his reasons just as she had hers.

Deciding it best to enquire, she cleared her throat inaudibly. "You don't have to help them, you know."

As if he already had a response pinned to his tongue, he looked at her expectantly. "I never had a chance."

She looked at him through the corner of her mask, furrowing her brows slightly.

"Bullshit."

He gave a smirk; she could pull off savagery and anger as eloquently as possible and he couldn't help but find it incredible. The two of them still faced forward in an implicit formality.

"The whole, uh, drugging me here and torturing me wasn't exactly a choice," he stated, with a tiny amount of humor laced in his words and a small chuckle evident in his voice, "neither was finding my best friend that I was told was dead, found his grave, and then he let me go with no further instruction only for me to be recaptured, dragged into this mess by you and the others—yeah, I don't think I had a choice."

She gave a settling tilt of the head. "Fair enough."

Their shoulders were now touching.

"Still," she continued, "you owe them no loyalty."

"I'm not stupid," he replied lowly, slowly diminishing the humor from his previous statement.

It was apparent he would die if he opposed whatever they had in mind for them. Whether or not he would ever explicitly state it, he was actually grateful to be alive after a multitude of times he shouldn't have been. That still didn't change Holland's mind that whatever he was doing there with her or the others was for his own selfish purpose. She sensed it and he confirmed it.

The ballroom was filled with delightfully oblivious people, dancing with their drunken lovers and ignoring any signs of the horrendous things happening under their noses.

But perhaps it was for the best, and it was certainly something another glass of white wine could fix.

* * *

**~()~()~()~()~()~**

"Monty, I was about eight years old when we first got in."

"Jasper, I'm working on these electrical panels as fast as I can."

Bellamy was stuck in the narrow tunnels, babysitting the two as they lashed out against each other over time and efficiency.

A few seconds of silence passed.

"Man," Jasper breathed, "this damn suit is the itchiest thing I've worn since grade school."

Jasper smacked Monty in the shoulder, eliciting an eye roll and expecting another rebuttal to which he would list reasons about how infantile it was to complain in such a situation. Instead, Monty reciprocated and the two were soon taking turns lightly smacking each other.

"Can you hurry the hell up?" Bellamy said impatiently, offering no sign he wanted to be cramped in the vents with two kids any longer.

Jasper and Monty gave each other a long look before one of them broke it off.

Monty sighed. "Yeah, almost done."

The vent popped open without alarms or electrical systems going off. Monty was renowned for being a hacker and not so much an electrical genius, so he patted himself on the back for doing better than average on breaking into a highly secured facility.

The three slowly crawled out of the vents to a deserted hallway. Jasper looked up in the corners where he remembered there could be cameras at that location but was soon relieved to see they were turned off.

"Where is everyone?" Monty asked.

Bellamy scanned the hallway cautiously holding his gun. "At the party. Holland and Murphy are probably waiting for us to give them the all-clear. We should go find them once we're done."

"I don't remember this section," Jasper mumbled.

"I do," Bellamy announced, "this way."

He led the three of them down some corridors, looking behind one last time in a secured attempt to make sure they would be free of being caught.

* * *

**~()~()~()~()~()~**

The classical music had changed now into something of softer, more elegant beat. The people immediately grouped up where the men held onto the women's waist and the women wrapped their arms loosely around their partner's neck. It was a slow dance.

Murphy hadn't been to all that many dances or parties on the Ark since he was usually the one to screw around with his crew; resulting in banishment. He craned his neck over to see Holland looking out stiffly against the sea of couples. He stood in front of her and her eyes betrayed a look of confusion. He took her hand nimbly and led her out into the edge of the crowd where he decided to give them both some fun.

"What are you doing—" But the question was left unnoticed in to the air as Murphy settled on a decent spot to turn her around and placed his hands on her delicate waist. She reluctantly lifted her arms and placed them on his shoulders, slowly swaying in place to the dance.

"Maybe I thought about what you said," he said suddenly.

"I've said a lot in the past twenty-four hours."

Murphy took a deep sigh, staring into oblivion. "You know, Bellamy—he used to be my friend before everything happened. I don't know what it'd take, but I guess now if anyone needed me, they could use me for whatever they wanted."

"Kicking ass is usually a good solution to things," she suggested with a straight face as her voice depicted subtle humor.

Murphy smirked to himself and blinked back a sudden wave of exhaustion.

"Holland?"

"Yeah?"

Murphy proceeded to remove his hands from her waist and began to slowly remove her mask, revealing a puzzled expression on her gaunt and pale face. "It suits you better when it's off," he decided.

"Again, charming."

He smirked again to himself, holding her mask in his hands as he went back to holding her in the midst of the slow dance. "Can you shut up and enjoy the dance, interrogator?"

The new nickname was as strangely endearing as it was lame in her mind and she chuckled inwardly. Removing the mask on her face and her agreeing to dance with him was proof enough that in that moment, it didn't matter what they did. Rules or being cautious was out of mind as the complacent sheep around them were content in their pens.

"Psychologist," she corrected with an underlying leer, "that's my official title here."

"Great," he rolled his eyes, "and I thought I could escape the crazies."

"Quit bitching," she demanded teasingly.

"Who's bitching?" He chuckled. "It's just surreal when someone isn't actually hating me or killing me."

"Take it as a one-time good deal," she stated, "You're better off with your camp members now than here."

She bit her lip, unsure how to word a deep feeling that left her uncomfortable in the pits of her stomach. She allowed a second to pass, manipulating the words to appeal to both him and her.

"No one's going to hurt you anymore, Murphy. I promise."

It was the first time he had ever heard her offer some form of compassion to anyone. They were strangers, there was no doubt about it, but just being with her at any given time made him feel as though had known her for years. Despite the stoic expressions and the mysterious aura and loads of unanswered questions, she was rather quite transparent. He only knew this because they were more alike than she wanted them to be.

He dislodged the internal conversation in his brain and decided that in that moment he was going to live. He was going to forget the tragedies of the past and the present and just let it wash away with the music. He pulled her closer to him as if it were a nonverbal way to thank her for keeping him alive.

His stranger, his protector.

He could care less if he seemed desperate; all that mattered was that a human soul acknowledged him beyond judging him of his past. That shouldn't have surprised him, but when she lay her head on his shoulder, he found himself slightly jumping in place. It was a moment in time that would never repeat again, but Murphy needed therapy, and this was oddly sufficient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:
> 
> Yeah, so there's quite a bit more of this whole break-in scene and so I didn't want it to be too long and drawn out, so a bit of it will pan into chapter 17 and let me tell you, it's about to throw down.
> 
> Hope you liked it, don't forget to leave a review below and see you next time!


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